


Mimi

by sunryder



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Minerva McGonagall, F/M, Old Married Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-13 04:10:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 32,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14741748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunryder/pseuds/sunryder
Summary: Minerva McGonagall is not the kind of woman to leave a child on a stoop in November without making sure he'll be cared for.Her care changes everything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the most self-indulgent piece of nonsense I've ever written. I hope you like it as much as I did.

Minerva McGonagall was not beautiful. Neither was she charming nor kind. And contrary to popular opinion, never would Minerva describe herself as clever. Clever was twisting words and sliding past offended egos to defuse a situation. No, Minerva was intelligent. She gathered information, she learned from her mistakes, and she took things as they were, not clouded by a haze of sentimentality.

So when Albus glowered at her over his glasses, trying to scold her like she was one of the students he caught mid-bully, Minerva nodded her agreement... but she waited.

She left Number 4 Privet drive long enough to apparate to her home office, grab enough Pepper-Up to last the week, a unending roll of parchment, and the transcription quill that she had liberated from her DMLE office on her last day. She was back at the far end of the road just in time to see the streetlamps flare back on and Albus vanish into the night.

Minerva first settled her cloak over Harry’s basket to fend off the November night’s cold and preceded to conduct a thorough examination of the wards Albus had raised around Lily Potter’s sister’s. Since one could not rant and rave at four o’clock in the morning, she dropped down onto the stoop beside the boy. Unless she was completely wrong – which one must always factor into their calculations, no matter how unlikely – the only thing standing between Harry Potter and the outside world was Minerva McGonagall and a single blood ward. Albus hadn’t bothered with protections set for anti-apparition, magic notification, wand detection, or even a Fidelius charm, let alone the half a dozen spells even the most junior NSPCC worker would have laid to stay informed about Harry’s heath and well being. She presumed that the blood ward was meant to keep out any marked Death Eaters, but that still meant any Wizard or Muggle short of carrying the Dark Mark could roam in off the street and Albus would never know.

It seemed that the only spell Albus had cast himself was the privacy charm attached to the letter that was tucked into the basket beside little Harry. No one would ever read that letter without Petunia Dursley’s permission, much to Minerva’s frustration.

A twenty-year-old Minerva fresh into her time at the DMLE would have swept Harry off the front porch at nothing more than the lurking potential for danger and the wretchedness she had observed in the Muggle’s personalities. But above all else, Minerva McGonagall was a woman who learned.

Minerva spent three days in that dull garden, her disillusioned transcription quill writing down every word said in the Dursley home. It recorded every time Vernon Dursley called the Hero of the Wizarding world a freak and said they should call the police to tell them some vagrant must have left the child. It caught every shout at Harry to stop crying. It recorded every foul curse Petunia sobbed about her sister’s death and how Lily had brought in on herself for taking up with those abominations. As the hours went on, the quill starting logging noises that seemed contextually appropriate – precisely the reason Minerva had liberated that particular quill from the DMLE. It made a note at every grumble of little Harry’s stomach, marked the duration when Harry sobbed himself to sleep in a windowless room because the Dursleys thought that would stopper the sound, and shook ever so slightly when Harry begged his mother and father to come home.

On the morning of the third day, Vernon Dursley ran late to work. (Even when you hated a child, an extra body in the house always managed to slow things down.) Harry was wailing out what the quill had had enough exposure to identify as his ‘wanting to be picked up’ cry, and pick him up Vernon did.

In full view of the kitchen window and the all-seeing cat, a second witness in case the quill couldn't understand what it heard, Vernon Dursley shouted at the baby to “Shut up!” as he took the boy between his hands and shook him. Harry’s cries caught in his throat and Vernon Dursley somehow never saw the witch transform outside his window, _Stupefy_ sparking on the wand pointed at his head.

“Vernon!” Petunia shouted, scrambling away from her little boy who was demanding more porridge but unwilling to use the spoon himself. Minerva raised her wand and for a split second she believed that Petunia had found her line in the sand. That perhaps a woman who believed in apathy and abuse could still see the problem with violence.

Instead, Petunia plucked little Harry out of his uncle's arms and hissed, “If you hurt him he’ll have to go to the doctor and then what will we tell them? They’ll think you did something wrong.”

And that was all evidence Minerva needed. More important still, it was all the evidence she could stomach. A ghostly white cat went tearing off into the morning light and Minerva crossed the street into the shadow of a neighbor’s garage. Robert was not the sort to cast a disillusionment charm before he apparated, and weak though the shadow was, it would be enough protection for Minerva to do it for him when he arrived. Which he did immediately, landing with a crack that came from disapparating in a panic. Young Jude stumbled out of his father’s hasty spin, green from the ride.

“Minnie?”

Minerva cast the disillusionment on them both – with a particularly hard smack of her wand to her brother’s head as a reminder – and swept Jude into a hug. Like the lot of them, her nephew was stocky and short, but he was polite enough not to be shocked and hugged her back immediately.

“I love you, Jude.”

“And I love you, Aunt Min. Are you all right?”

“Fine dear.” She gave him a quick pat and turned to Robert. “You brought the papers?”

“Of course, and Jude, because this kind of thing is supposed to have two witnesses and his internship with my practice is good enough for him to qualify.” Robert handed the papers over to her outstretched hand and, with the sort of inborn knowledge that only came to a McGonagall boy, he explained without asking any questions. “The first one is a forfeiture of parental rights and it requires a signature here and here.” He pointed out the lines while Minerva flipped through the documents. “The next is a magical forfeiture of rights. Doing that to an underage child requires a judge’s approval to get it finalized, but that's the paperwork to get it started.”

Minerva slipped out those papers from the stack and handed then back. “They’re Muggles.”

“Well that certainly simplifies things then. That’s your assumption of guardianship, as well as the forms to get you started on a legal and magical adoption. I can probably get you in front of a judge this afternoon if you’d like.”

If they were a different family perhaps Robert would have suggested she contact their older brother Malcolm before even contemplating inviting someone into their family magic. But despite the rules of polite Wizarding society, only a fool would assume that Minerva wasn't the head of the McGonagall family, despite Malcolm’s official place as the firstborn son.

“Forfeiture and assumption of guardianship will have to be enough for the moment. I won’t appear before a judge until I know they’re going to side with me.” Minerva plucked a waiting quill out of Robert’s breast pocket, while he twisted Jude around and tipped him over so Minerva could sign the papers across his back. Minerva slipped the paperwork into the storage charm on her broach. “The two of you will come along with me, but be my lawyers for a moment, not my family.”

“We’ve got you covered, Aunt Min.” Jude nodded, and Minerva just raised eyebrow until her nephew blushed. “Miss McGonagall.” Minerva gave him a sharp nod and a quick kiss to his forehead, because today of all days she couldn’t bring herself to properly scold him.

Vernon Dursley had left for work in the short time Minerva had been waiting, which was an excellent turn of events. While Vernon’s hatred of Harry could only put him on their side of the argument, Minerva knew she would stun the foul man the moment he opened his mouth, which would make her a bit less persuasive.

A wall of screaming child met them at the door, and Minerva may have given her knock an extra touch of _Sonorous_ to cut through the din. Petunia answered the door with her fat baby in her arms and Harry crying somewhere in the background. The blood drained out of Petunia’s face at the sight of their robes and Minerva didn’t even need to elbow the woman out of the way as she strode straight into the house and to tiny Harry, curled in a disconsolate ball in one of the those baby cages Muggles were forced to use. Minerva plucked him up and so great was the poor boy’s relief that he collapsed into her arms without bothering to check who was holding him.

“You… you _people_ aren’t supposed to be here!”

“And you’re not supposed to shake children, so here we both are.”

Petunia’s eyes grew three sizes. “You were watching us.” She shut the door behind them, still managing to keep from slamming it so no neighbor would have cause to look out their door and ask questions.

“Did you honestly believe that we would entrust _any_ magical child to your care and not verify that they were being taken care of?” For a long moment Petunia met Minerva’s glare head on. The two women as different as they could possibly be: tall and short, young and middle-aged, magical and Muggle, but both of them cradling an Evans boy. Petunia knew from that one unflinching look that Minerva would neither be moved by her plight nor bullied into ignoring what she’d done. It was a quick evolution, but Minerva saw it still, and they understood one another.

“He left a baby on my front porch in the middle of the night with nothing but a letter telling me that my sister had been murdered, abandoning me with a child that I never knew existed and looks every inch like the man who took her away from me. And now I’m supposed to treat the little monster like he’s mine, pretend like I love him like my Dudders and I’m not going to do it. I don’t care about that old man’s threats.”

“In Dumbledore’s letter, I assume?”

“ _Letter_ ,” Petunia spat. “It was a threat, plain and simple.”

“I will be blunt with you then, Mrs. Dursley, I’m going to take Harry with me. My solicitor has brought paperwork that will absolve you of any legal duty to the child. However, before I can get you out of any magical duty you might have accidentally taken on, I need to see the letter.”

Keeping Dudley on her hip, Petunia went into the kitchen and pulled the papers out from underneath a basket she had on top of the fridge, handing them over to Minerva. Robert immediately drew her to the forfeiture of rights and laid out the document in the clearest of terms to make sure that no one would throw out the forfeiture on a technicality. Jude just stared at them all like there must be another orphaned, black-haired baby that his aunt might lay claim to than the one he thought they were talking about. As she could with so few people in her life, Minerva trusted her brother to get the job done.

Minerva took a moment to adjust Harry so his head could rest properly against her shoulder and turned all her attention to the letter she could feel saturated with Albus’ magic. The first paragraph succinctly laid out the existence of Voldemort and explained that the madman had hunted down the Potters because of their good work in defying him and saving lives. He explained that the Potters had met their end by the aptly named Killing Curse. Albus chose to gloss over the shattered wreckage of their home and the bloody spatter in the living room that said He Who Must Not Be Named hadn’t started with the Killing Curse, that said the James Potter who Petunia so despised had died fighting for his family. But Albus did choose to share that Lily had died beside her son’s crib, putting herself between her baby and the madman who’d been hunting them. And then Albus shared with this Muggle woman one of the most valuable pieces of information in the entire magical world.

 

> “Lily sacrificed herself trying to save Harry from Voldemort, and I believe it was Lily’s love for young Harry that saved him from dying by a Killing Curse as well. Love is a powerful magic of its own, and Lily’s selfless devotion to her son saved his life. As Lily’s only living relative, I am entrusting you with her child and the knowledge that the love of a mother for her child and one sister for another will continue the protection that Lily gave to her son.
> 
> “You see, Voldemort may be defeated, but he has many followers still abroad in the world. Your sister’s sacrifice will protect young Harry from those followers finding or hurting him, and it will also protect you and your family while Harry is in your care. If you were to turn Harry out before he turns seventeen and becomes of magical age, I’m afraid I won’t be able to guarantee your protection, or your continued privacy.
> 
> “By taking Harry into your home with love you will magically adopt him, which will extend Lily’s protection both to you and your family. I trust that you will honor both your sister’s memory and this magical pact.”
> 
> _Albus Dumbledore_

 

The blood ward surrounding the house was obviously the leftover remnants of whatever Albus thought Lily had accidentally triggered with her sacrifice. The fact that it wasn’t wavering at all despite the abuse Harry had suffered since he arrived was proof that despite Albus’ warnings, Petunia’s love wasn’t a necessary component of its maintenance. Considering that no Death Eater had ever turned up at Petunia’s door over the entire course of the war, it appeared to Minerva that Petunia’s hatred of her magical sister had inadvertently protected her from being killed. It was isolation that Minerva was confident could be maintained, with a ward or two to notify the DMLE just in case. As for the potential magical ramifications of flouting the blood ward that would protect Harry from Death Eaters so long as he stayed in his Aunt’s house, they were nothing compared to the price he would pay for living under this roof.

“You’re right, Mrs. Dursley,” Minerva interrupted Robert’s soft voice trying to cajole her into signing. “Dumbledore overstated things. If you’re concerned, I’ll have protections put up around your home, but there are only a handful of people in the entire Wizarding World who are aware of your existence, so your continued safety shouldn’t be a problem. As soon as you sign the documents I’ll take Harry with me and Dumbledore’s threats will be subverted.” Petunia was at the kitchen table, Dudley still in her lap and distracted from further attempts to rip at the paper by a biscuit. Jude had ceased standing around like a lump and found a Muggle pen for Petunia to use, but still the documents sat unsigned.

“Do you have any questions?” Robert tried to break their staring contest to no avail.

“Just the one. Why are you doing this?”

“Because Lily and James were my students, and once upon a time they told me that they’d like me to be Harry’s honorary grandmother. I’ve lost too much in this war Mrs. Dursley, I won’t resign myself to leaving my grandson behind.”

“The magical world took _everything_ from me,” said Petunia through clenched teeth.

“And you intend to punish Harry for the wrongs the world has done against you?”

“I want to know why I should give you another piece of my family when you already killed my sister.”

“A piece of your family you don’t want, Mrs. Dursley. I heard you screaming. I saw your husband shaking him.”

“And you read Dumbledore’s letter. I remember him. Lily used to talk about him all the time back when she cared one speck about anything outside your magic. She told me all about what a great wizard he was, how powerful. And you expect me to believe that any one of you would actually take that child away when Dumbledore is the one to put him here?”

With a flick of wrist Minerva conjured multi-colored sparks to dance around on the left edge of the table, distracting the boys from the memory Minerva extracted from her temple and set swirling to the right. Minerva kept her eyes on the boys, she didn’t need to see the images again to know that the miniature version of herself was approaching a shattered, still-smoking cottage. The roof had been blown away from the inside, and the walls splintered up like jagged rock.

Inside, there were two children, or what only a woman could still name as such given they were twisted on themselves, trapped forever mid-writhe, like a sculptor had pushed their little bodies too far and frozen them that way forever. Between their shattered bodies and the door was a man, his bright red hair now brown from blood. His chest was a perfect mirror image of the open roof above him, a gaping hole where his heart had been ripped from his chest and dropped to the floor beside his body.

Minerva didn’t have to watch to know that the image of her had dropped to its knees beside the man’s body. “I won’t let it happen to another child, Mrs. Dursley. Voldemort killed them all because they were Muggles. I won’t have you hurt Harry because he’s a Wizard.”

“We’d never _kill_ him.” Petunia could barely summon the breath to make words through her horror.

“And when you let him leave with me, you won’t even have to pretend to care.”

“I haven’t said yes.”

“You will. Because I will love him as my own, as your sister would have wanted, and as you know full well that you aren’t capable of.”

“I could—”

“You won’t. Don’t force yourself into it because of Dumbledore’s threats or because you want to prove me wrong. This is what you want to happen, and it is one of those rare cases where what you want is also the right thing.” There was a long moment where Minerva thought that Petunia might refuse to sign simply to be contrary, but with a sharp swirl of her pen, it was done. With Harry asleep in her arms, Minerva was out the door without bothering to _Accio_ the sad little basket that Harry had been brought in.

Minerva supposed she ought to give Jude credit for waiting until they made it all the way to the street before he asked, “Uh, Aunt Min, did we just help you kidnap The Boy Who Lived?” And more credit still for not asking about what he’d just seen play out in her memory.

“No. Now back to work with the both of you.”

“But what are you going to do—”

Robert covered his son’s mouth. “We can’t give away what we don’t know. I imagine that at some point _someone_ is going to realize that, magical blood pact or not, Mrs. Dursley needs to sign some official paperwork to adopt Mr. Potter. They’ll have a jaunt around her memory and suddenly you and I, my boy, will find ourselves being interrogated.”

“But we’re her barristers! They can’t make us tell something about a client.”

“I imagine that they’re not going to care a jot about that when it comes to Harry Potter. I’d rather not know something sensitive and accidentally give it away before Min is ready.”

“What else does she need?”

“If you two will excuse me, I’ll leave you to give Jude a lecture on the difference between assuming custody and actual adoption.”

“And lecture is all I’ll be able to do, Min.” Her sweet baby brother was apologetic. “Take all adoption paperwork with you, but once you get where you’re going you can’t trust that my practice won’t be watched. You’ll need to get someone else to arrange the meeting with the judge, and I don’t know how they’ll sneak you in without tipping off Dumbledore.”

“Considering that you still can’t remember to disillusion yourself before you disapparate, we’ll leave the sneaking to me.”

“Yes, sass your brother who risked life, limb, and reputation to come straight to your side when you called.”

“Sassing is how we show our love, Robert. If you haven’t figured that out by now, I can’t help you.” Minerva dropped a kiss on her brother’s cheek with a soft thank you in his ear and did the same to Jude with another reminder that she loved him.

Minerva made it a whole ten steps down the street before Jude gave an entirely unnecessary shout at her to wait. “Honestly Jude, I’m right in front of you.”

“I had to make sure.” Jude smirked at his aunt and pressed a kiss to Harry’s forehead. “Welcome to the family, little cousin.” He gave his aunt a wink and didn’t flinch when she disapparated with a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

It likely said something unfortunate about Elphinstone’s life choices that he knew his house elf was bringing him sensitive information solely based on the gnarled grey hand touching his shoulder. Too many long years in the DMLE meant Elphinstone woke without a sound at the nudge, eyes snapping open and magic tapping into the house’s wards. However, all the usual questions demanding an update stuttered out upon his realization that it wasn’t his Elf valet waking him, or even sweet little Lola who ran his London house and had been irked for days by the Aurors sleeping on his sofas, it was Gingham.

Gingham, the head of all the Urquart Elves, who was supposed to be enjoying his retirement and experimenting with plants in the manor greenhouses. Gingham, who had been his grandfather’s valet at the turn of the last century. And Gingham, who upon the rise of Voldemort had declared he was too old “to be following Sir into his nonsense anymore” and appointed his successor.

Elphinstone popped upright and fought back the urge to gather the old Elf into his arms to check him for wounds. Before he could speak, Gingham interrupted in a level and uninterested voice, “Miss Nervie is at the house.”

“She’s downstairs?” Elphinstone flipped back the covers. “Are the lads giving her grief?”

“No, Sir. She is at _the house_.” Elphinstone paused halfway out of bed and only decades of training kept him from clarifying. There was only one house Gingham could mean with that tone, one house that had been under lockdown since the war started and where this particular Elf had been in charge. “She asked that you come directly.” And based off the pointed raise of his brow bone, that directly probably meant something closer to quietly. Though why Gingham felt the need to sneak about in Elphinstone’s own house, he couldn’t imagine.

When Gingham was certain that Elphinstone understood his implication, Lola popped up beside the bed. “Lola will be telling the Aurors that Sir woke early and went to breakfast.”

“When they complain, tell them I didn’t want to pay for their lazy arses.”

Lola gave him the same pinch-lipped frown she always did when she was forced to deal with less than distinguished Wizards, but nodded that she’d sell their little story. She snapped her fingers and Elphinstone’s pajamas vanished in place of his standard work clothes. “They be stirring, Sir.”

Elphinstone thanked Lola and took Gingham’s hand to let him them pop them out. A few of the sleeping Aurors were talented enough to recognize the magical ripples of a Wizard apparating through the excessive wards Phin had wrapped around his home, but only the master of the house could keep track of the House Elves. In a blink, Elphinstone arrived on the front walk of Urquart Manor and started for the house. “Gingham,” Elphinstone said before the Elf had the chance to pop himself away, “do all of you know what’s going on?”

“No, Sir. Others don’t know, but they magic can feel my worry.”

“You want to warn me about what’s in there causing you to worry?” Of course, Gingham popped away instead of answering. “Silly me.”

Over the course of their years together, Elphinstone had lost track of the number of times Minerva had apparated into his London home or his office. Whether she came to complain about students, their ridiculous parents, or the state of her tea, Minerva’s sudden arrival was something that everyone from the House Elves to his department secretary was prepared for. Minerva’s arrival at Urquart Manor, however, was not. It had happened a scant handful of times in their friendship, each time triggered by some terrible upheaval in Minerva’s life.

With each step, Elphinstone steeled himself to be told that a corpse had just been discovered and another of their friends had fallen in those last few hours before Voldemort’s demise. But what he never would’ve expected if he’d been given a hundred years to guess was Minerva McGonagall perched like a queen in the wingback chair before his fireplace, with a baby in her arms. In case he didn’t believe his own two eyes, there were three House Elves perched in a row along the back of the chair, others leaning over her shoulders, one on top on the mantle like a miniature gargoyle, and Gingham himself in the place of pride beside her on the chair with the child’s hand wrapped around his finger.

For a man who prided himself on maintaining his reflexes despite his advanced age, Elphinstone was a bit ashamed that he stood there like a lump and stared at the lot of them.

As always, Minerva was a bit faster on the uptake than he was, and without taking her eyes off the child, she announced, “Read the scroll first. I have the pertinent passages marked.”

One of the poor younger Elves had been exiled to the doorway, forced to stand there waiting for Sir with the scroll outstretched. The second Elphinstone relieved him of his burden the boy bounded over to the circle and scrambled up on his older brother’s shoulders to stare down at the baby.

Since Elphinstone retained the sense that God gave a slug, he did as Minerva told him. He let the scroll unwind in his hands like it was on a player piano, stopping so often that Elphinstone had no problem keeping track of the mundane things that happened in between the highlights so that when this inevitably ended up before a judge there wouldn’t be any justifiable circumstances to blindside them.

Because this abomination, this was going to end up in court. A magical child out there being abused by Muggle relatives? Chaos of the war ending or not, this kind of thing shouldn’t be happening when someone could set a few wards, cast a charm or two, and have a child protected from anything even resembling abuse.

Admittedly, Elphinstone didn’t ask himself why it was that Minerva would be anywhere near this house monitoring the child with a DMLE-grade transcription quill. The excessive use of ‘freak’ to describe the baby instead of anything resembling a proper name meant that when the quill jotted down Minerva’s entrance and the name Harry Potter, Elphinstone went weak in the knees. Gingham nudged a chair behind Sir to keep him from dropping to the floor, but Elphinstone just kept reading, soaking in the details of Minerva’s conversation and aching to read the letter that the quill had down as a stretch of silence.

With years of long experience, Elphinstone tabled his first instinct to demand details that she shouldn’t be giving to an officer of the law and instead asked to see the paperwork. Limited though his own experience in domestic issues was, there were no glaring holes in the forfeiture or assumption of parental rights that called out to even his attention. They would need to call in a specialist to verify, but that could be tabled for the moment. “We need to contact a healer.”

“They never actually struck Harry. I would’ve gotten him out of the house immediately if they’d tried.”

“I know,” Elphinstone soothed her hushed temper. “You’re going to have to go in front of a judge and prove that they shouldn’t take him away from you, paperwork or no paperwork. You can verify that you took him without going to Magical NSPCC because you were gathering proof of abuse. The fact that you waited for proof and that you took him the second you had incontrovertible evidence will be both good and bad depending on the judge. Either way, you’ll have a stronger case if you can show that being in the Dursleys’ presence negatively affected his magic. And if Dumbledore was willing to turn the child over to Wizard-hating relatives, I can’t imagine he thought to have someone check over the boy despite being attacked by He Who Must Not Be Named.”

“You know why I didn’t go to NSPCC, Phin.”

He shoved aside the desire for it to be half an hour ago when he was back in bed. “Because none of them bothered to check in on the boy or find out what happened to in the days since his parents’ murder. And you can’t send Harry blood Potter off to some foster home or orphanage when there are Death Eaters on the loose. I understand perfectly, Nerve, and we’ll get you a judge and a barrister who will understand full well why you believed you were doing the right thing.”

“I _did_ do the right thing and you know it.”

“Don’t snap at me, you’ll wake the baby.”

“I couldn’t leave him there!” Minerva hissed.

Gingham slipped off the chair, giving over his seat to Sir so he could perch beside Minerva in the small space. “I wouldn’t want you to. Honestly, I’m a bit stunned that you managed to hold out as long as you did.” Minerva pressed the sleeping child closer against her breast, giving him a few little bounces at some non-existent sign that he might wake. “This is going to be difficult, love. You’ve made it easier on yourself with proof of abuse, but no matter what you did before or what you do now, you’re going to have a beast of a time keeping custody. It’s my job to think of the worst and try to protect the both of you against it.”

“Do you have a healer we can call?” Minerva asked, her voice at little thick with tears she wouldn’t acknowledge. “Every one I know would go immediately to Albus the moment I warned them not to.”

“Frankly, I don’t even know if the medics assigned to the Aurors would have any idea what sort of aftereffects to look for in a person whose been struck by the Killing Curse.”

“Do we look for that now, or after we’ve got custody?”

Elphinstone did not react at all to the ‘we.’ Minerva preferred it when he ignored her accidental bouts of sentimentality. “It can only help matters to be clear that we thought of having him checked when Dumbledore didn’t, despite his assumption of parental control. I’ll contact some of my associates in Germany and America and see if they have any recommendations for someone who’d be willing to keep things quiet.”

“You can hold him, you know. He’s not going to bite.”

“I recall you saying the same thing about your nephews before they bit me.”

“And now Lewis is in training to be an Auror.”

“If you make a joke about him ‘getting a taste for it’ because he bit me, so help me Minerva—”

“You have obviously been spending too much time around your junior Aurors.”

“Those junior Aurors are going to be my alibi when someone comes around asking me if I’ve heard from you. We can’t both hide behind the wards of my townhouse and hope that no one asks too many questions.”

“I’m not hiding with him!”

“You damn well better be. If your hand gets tipped too soon you’ll be the most wanted woman in the Wizarding World and that means that baby getting dropped right back with the Muggles you took him from, and part two of them will only be worse.”

“No swearing in front of the baby.” Minerva reached around and pinched his thigh.

“He can’t hear me when he’s asleep!”

“You still need to get into the habit!”

“Do I?” A different woman would at least pretend to give Elphinstone the illusion that what he had any choice in the matter. Minerva had never been one for beating around the bush when stating bluntly could do just as well. Minerva rose from the seat to her miniscule height and yet somehow managed to look like a queen as she slipped the sleeping child into Elphinstone’s arms.

Based off Minerva’s nieces and nephews, Harry was small for his age. He still had the chubby features of a well-fed baby, but the weight of him was barely more than the blankets wrapped around him. He was straddling that invisible line between baby and boy, and for all that Elphinstone had never seen the child awake, he was absolutely certain that any son of James Potter would be climbing up and over things the moment he was given a chance. Elphinstone couldn’t even begin to imagine the kind of baby proofing that he’d have to do to keep control of a Marauder.

“Elphinstone Urquart, this is Harry James Potter.”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve introduced us, you know.”

“I assumed you’d forgotten, because no man with a full memory of the afternoon Lily and James asked me to be their child’s grandmother would waste any of the precious time that we have obsessing about obvious answers.”

“I wasn’t obsessing.”

“You only answer questions out loud when you’re obsessing over something. The rest of the time you assume correctly.”

“Do you feel better now that you’ve scolded me into being co-parents?”

“Don’t you sass me, Urquart.”

“If I don’t then we’ll have nothing to talk about.”

Minerva bit back a smile and as much as Elphinstone wanted to give her a moment of peace, he had to make sure things got done so she could have many more moments like the one she deserved now. “Minerva, I need to know, has the Potter’s estate been settled yet?”

“I have no idea. If it has it didn’t include me.”

“Do you think that they would have left Harry with these relatives in their will?”

“Not in a million years. Lily spoke to me once or twice about her Muggle sister and there was no love lost between them. Sirius told me that things only got worse after the sisters got married because their husbands disliked one another on sight.”

“I can only imagine how Sirius would’ve worded that.”

“Fat lump may have been used.”

“Sirius was Harry’s godfather, yes?” Minerva nodded. “Do you believe they would’ve left Harry to Sirius’ custody? Or would he have gone to the godmother?”

“Alice Longbottom was his godmother, not Petunia. I’m sure they had her on the paperwork somewhere, but Sirius would’ve been first. If I had to guess I’d say Sirius, then Remus, Alice and Frank, and even Albus and I might be on the list of people someplace. James would’ve known better then to leave any chance that the Last Scion of House Potter would end up in the hands of Muggles who hated his parents. Frankly, I’d imagine that his last resort would be to call on half a dozen old alliances that various families had with his house and ask one of them to take his son as their ward.”

“But you imagine that Sirius Black is the one they granted immediate custody to?”

“Almost certainly. But Sirius… Sirius has fallen.”

Elphinstone shoved aside the stab of pain that came from Sirius’ unexpected betrayal. The boy had been a beloved protégé, quick with his smile but too dramatic in his dueling. He was the closest Elphinstone had ever felt to being a father and he’d looked forward to seeing what kind of man he became. Never in his wildest dreams had he imaged that Sirius would break his heart through anything other than laying down his life to save the day.

“The simplest way to get Harry back from you would be to put him in the hands of whoever the will says is legally meant to have custody over him. Unless there’s a medical miracle, that person cannot be Alice. And despite his confession, Sirius hasn’t been convicted of anything. He may have been disowned from his family, but I can’t imagine Arcturus will leave him to Azkaban without fighting it tooth and nail. Whatever might come of that, at this point he’s a dangerous loose end regarding Harry.

“We have no idea how his trial might go since the only witnesses to his confession are Muggles, and a talented lawyer will be able to cast them as misinformed fools. If someone wanted Harry they would exploit any loophole they can find and make Walburga, or Arcturus, or some former Death Eater declared Sirius’ parental proxy while he’s at trial. Or perhaps Arcturus will use the chance of that custody transfer to blackmail Sirius’ way out of charges. Without the will in front of us we can’t know how someone might exploit it, and Dumbledore has already set a dangerous precedent by putting Harry with someone so unsuitable without even bothering to consult the court. He can’t be trusted with boy, and now his opinion on Harry will have little to no weight.”

Elphinstone laid the child back into Minerva’s waiting arms with gentle hands and asked one of the Elves to fetch his red Auror robes.

Minerva cradled Harry in one arm and grabbed Elphinstone’s jacket before he could step away. “Where are you going?”

“To Azkaban.”

“Phin—” Minerva half rose out her seat, but Elphinstone nudged her back when Harry gave a grumble. He gave a soft stroke to Harry’s cheek that calmed the child and dropped to a knee before Minerva.

“Sirius is your best guess as to the person who should have custody, and that’s a risk we can’t leave out there for someone to exploit. We can’t have you running around where someone can report on your movements, and I think both you and the child have earned a bit of rest in a safe place after the last few days. Stay here, compile the evidence, send one of the House Elves to ask your brother to recommend someone trustworthy and ruthless to handle the adoption, and get the pieces in position.

“You know that if Albus wants Harry with the Muggles he’s going to pull out every last stop to make it happen the way he wants. You’re the only one who knows him well enough to guess how he’ll manage that. But you’re the superior chess player, Minerva, so get the board set up for us.”

Elphinstone rose and tossed the cloak around his shoulders with flair that somehow managed to make him look efficiently dramatic and had made Minerva’s breath catch ever since she’d been nineteen and trying not to be one of those silly girls who was smitten with their boss.

Twenty years later, and Minerva had not spared a thought about coming straight to Elphinstone after she’d kidnapped the savior of the Wizarding World. Going to one of her brothers, or her own home, or even to Albus and shouting at him until he agreed with her – as was their usual approach to conflict – had never crossed her mind. Going to Elphinstone was an autonomic action. There were few people in the world Minerva could trust to be competent, and Elphinstone Urquart was one of them. And here he was, doing precisely what she’d known he would do: saving the day in a fit of logic and common sense.

Minerva handed the baby to Gingham, who had his gnarled hands already outstretched, stood up, and lunged for Elphinstone. Somewhere in the course of their relationship Minerva had lost track of the number of times she had turned up at his house and without a word he had taken her into his arms until she didn’t want to hex one of the school Governors anymore. Or there was the number of kisses she had dragged him into, and even those instances she had hauled the man into his own bedroom and he had never once complained. Even now the poor fellow was going to be bruised from how hard she’d smashed against his ribs and a kiss that had been more a collision of teeth and jaws than anything else. She soothed the motion to something less brutal but no less desperate, her hands running up the tendons up the back of his neck across the smooth skin of his head, though she kept herself from tracing her nails over him despite the way she knew it made him shiver. Already he’d have to wipe off the lipstick before the Azkaban guards gave him nonsense and he didn’t need scratches to make it worse.

All too soon Minerva pulled back with a juvenilely loud pop of their lips parting. She swept her thumb along the bottom of his lip and cleaned him up a bit before taking Harry back and heading towards the bedrooms. Elphinstone stood there for a moment, gathering together the shards of his professionalism before he muttered, “Well, all right then,” and apparated out the door.


	3. Chapter 3

Azkaban was an abomination.

Elphinstone didn’t give a damn how necessary the Wizengamot considered it, or how the magical theorists swore the charmed amulets would protect the guards and the rare visitors from the Dementors’ effects: the place destroyed souls. When the prison had been established in the 1600s, Elphinstone’s predecessor in charge of the DMLE had refused to staff the place with his Aurors, and it was a refusal that every last Head had upheld ever since, no matter what each Minister of Magic would ask with the start of every new government. Elphinstone could only imagine that the researchers who declared the place safe had nothing traumatizing lurking in their pasts and had only endured the bare minimum of exposure before rubber-stamping the prison.

As it was, Elphinstone’s hands were shaking as he wound the visitor’s bracelet around his wrist. Though it was muffled, he could hear his men screaming as they went down under a barrage of curses somewhere in France. The boy who murmured the spell that sealed the charm still had sympathy in his eyes, and Elphinstone could only hope that he would put in for a transfer someplace else before he looked as dead as the senior officer waiting for them by the door.

Elphinstone had a pet theory that while Dementors were known for taking your soul all at once, that didn’t mean they weren’t sneaking bits and pieces of it as they floated past. The man currently leading him to the visitor’s room had been just one of many young men go to Azkaban with dreams of bettering the prison from the inside, and now looked perfectly at home among the floating demons. Soon enough Azkaban guards lost all trace of what made them human and became nothing but walking shells. But they were still walking, and that was all the Ministry cared about.

(The DMLE, however, had a very strict rotating schedule about who would have to visit Azkaban for transfers and information gathering. The whole thing would be shot to hell with all the Death Eaters in the bowels of the ministry due for transfer, but Elphinstone had already put in an emergency chocolate order that he’d supply himself if he had to.)

The visitor’s room had not one speck of comfort to offer. It barely counted as a cell, other than it would’ve been the largest cell in the place. There was no table and one chair placed inside a tight circular cage that looked straight out of the Tower. If the guards were feeling particularly merciful – or lazy – they wouldn’t strap the prisoner to the chair. This let the captive shove their hands so far though the gaps that the metal strips would cut into their forearms as they tried to touch their visitors and take some scant measure of comfort.

(If the trials went the way they ought, there were going to be children in this room coming to visit their parents soon. Elphinstone would have to see something done. It was bad enough that a whole generation of Peers was going to grow up with their fathers in Azkaban; they didn't need to see them caged like animals. The children had done nothing to deserve it.)

A person didn’t become the head of the DMLE without knowing themself – or they didn’t live long without some self awareness – and Elphinstone was man enough to know that he was contemplating how to cushion the place because that meant he didn’t have to look through the thick bars of a cage at Sirius Black lashed to a chair.

To the surprise of even Minerva, Sirius had applied directly to the Auror Academy after he graduated from Hogwarts. She’d written him a harsh letter of recommendation that only someone who knew her well be able to read between the lines and understand. Every word on the page was torn between pride and fury that Sirius was choosing such a dangerous path during the heat of a war. Minerva hadn’t spoken to Elphinstone for six months after he accepted the boy’s application, but Sirius’ scores had been brilliant, and he had that look in his eyes that meant he knew what justice was and he was willing to pay the cost. As for the difference between justice and the law, Elphinstone could teach him that.

But now, there was none of that surety.

Sirius looked... well, he looked like he'’ spent the better part of a week around creatures who ate souls. There was an orphan in Elphinstone’s house because of this man, but the sight of him still broke Elphinstone’s heart. “Oh, Siri.”

“Are you real?” Sirius croaked, trying to swallow past the jagged edges of vocal cords worn out by screaming. It didn’t help that his head was strapped back against the chair, his throat overextended and his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You know I am.” Some fit of compassion had seen the visiting room walls etched with runes that kept out the Dementors’ influence far better than any charm. Elphinstone resolved to wait until all this was settled before he asked himself what wretched memories Sirius might be having that he’d been seeing Elphinstone in them, or if reality had already started to warp around him thanks to the void of misery the Dementors tortured him with.

“You can’t be here, not after what I did.”

“I’m not here for you. I’m here to plead with whatever part of you might ever have loved Harry.” Sirius closed his eyes and flinched back as much as he was able from the name. “I saw you with your godson, and I cannot believe that all the adoration you showed that boy was a lie.”

Sirius’ face crumbled in tears, the tendons in his neck rising up in sharp relief as he choked back his sobs. “Harry...”

“You orphaned him, Black!” Elphinstone yelled. “You don’t get to say his name!”

“I did.” Sirius nearly writhed in his chair, straining against the bindings to curl up on himself and look away. “It’s all my fault. My fault. My fault.”

Perhaps it was how strange it was to see the endlessly charming Sirius Black reduced to this pathetic, groveling thing, or maybe it was the urge Elphinstone to gather Siri into his arms and make it better still couldn’t cast aside, but something made him stop. And when he stopped, he realized how wrong Sirius’ whimpers sounded. Not because they were coming from the throat of a man who was more likely to spit in your face and curse than whimper, but because for all he kept repeating like a madman that it was his fault, he didn't say that he’d done it.

Elphinstone forced himself up to the bars. “Sirius Black, did you kill the Potters?”

“I didn’t kill them, but I as good as did!”

It was decades of practice that kept Elphinstone’s tone cajoling when he wanted to scream. “By telling Voldemort where they were?”

“No, by not stopping _him_!”

“Siri, what _he_? Voldemort?”

“ _Peter_.” The name left his lips in a rain of spittle.

It was like a lightning bolt had struck Elphinstone. “Sirius Orion, was Peter Pettigrew the Potters’ secret keeper?”

Sirius gave a deranged cackle. “We thought we were so clever. No one would ever suspect that James would trust sweet, pathetic Peter with the lives of his wife and child.”

Elphinstone grabbed the bars to keep himself from collapsing weak-kneed before the cage. “Peter isn’t talented enough to have memory charmed the witnesses. How did he pull it off?” Because now that Elphinstone let himself think, Peter faking an utter lack of magical ability for his entire education sounded more plausible than Sirius Black betraying James Potter.

“He blew up the damn street and escaped into the sewer.”

“How, Siri? Peter wasn’t a large man by any means but not even he would’ve been able to run through the drains.”

Sirius stared at him for a long moment and Elphinstone felt his hope start to wither away. He should’ve known better than to believe even for a moment. Fate would never be so kind as to hand him such a perfect justification for his protégé. Sirius flicked his eyes towards the door, where the half-dead guard was watching the entire conversation unfold through the small window. The man wasn’t daft enough to interfere with the head of the DMLE, but he had an uptick to his eyebrow like he couldn’t believe Elphinstone was buying this nonsense. Elphinstone’s pricked pride wanted to fight with him, but it seemed all too true.

At least, until Siri glanced down at his hand as much as he was able. It was the hand to the far side of his chair that the guard couldn’t see quite as well from his little window. It was just a flash of a change, but enough that Elphinstone watched as short claws sprouted from Sirius’ fingertips as the digits retracted and spouted black fur.

He was back to perfectly human in a heartbeat so any witnesses could tell themselves it was a trick of the light. Sirius quirked an eyebrow, as though he was delivering gossip in the Ministry lifts instead of strapped to a chair with his eyes puffy and red while he drawled. “Peter has always been a bit of a rat.”

They were Animagi. Those devious little shits were Animagi. A thousand of Minerva’s complaints about how she couldn’t believe the boys had managed to get away from the scene of the crime made sense and Elphinstone had the overwhelming urge to laugh. He kept it to himself because the last thing the situation needed was people thinking that he’d cracked, but it was wonderful.

Of course he hadn’t done it. Of course Sirius hadn’t betrayed the Potters to Voldemort. And of course the daft little bastards were unregistered Animagi. _Of course_. And of course in one of his fits of drama Sirius had gone after Peter when the fool should’ve waited for Elphinstone to arrive as the backup he’d summoned, or at least had the common sense to stay with the baby. And of course when Peter had slithered his way out of a duel that he surely would’ve lost, Sirius started screaming to the heavens about how James’ death was his fault. Of course the dramatic little bastard had lamented his way into Azkaban and in the few minutes he’d been spared the Dementors’ influence he managed to get himself together enough to keep his transformation a secret, just in case.

With a flick of his wand Elphinstone released the cuffs locking Sirius into place. The guard opened his mouth to object, but then seemed to remember whom he was talking to and turned down the hall to make it clear the fallout wouldn’t be his problem. “Phin, are you—”

“No. I can’t get you out of here without a trial but you can be damn sure that one is coming. You have my word. It’ll happen as fast as I can manage it, but I need you to do something for me right now and it can’t wait for the trial.” Elphinstone stuck the scroll through the bars, and with hands shaking from too much strain and too little food, Sirius took it.

“What—“ Sirius read enough to know it was a revocation of his parental rights and asked, “Why would you need this?”

“Did the Potters leave you custody of their son?” Elphinstone tried to be gentle, but there was no way he could manage it.

“No! Why would they— holy shit I hope not. Phin, did they leave me Harry?” Sirius tried to stand and ended up in a desperate lunge as close to the bars as he could manage. “Tell me they didn’t leave me Harry and I’m in here, Phin. Where is Harry?”

Elphinstone took Sirius by the hand and soothed him. “It’s all right, he’s safe. And I don’t know if they left him to you, but I was hoping you did.”

“No. The lot of us refused to even think that we weren’t going to make it out of this alive. But I’m his godfather. Unless James and Lily mentioned someone specifically in their will, it’s my duty and honor in magic to raise him as my own. Holy hell.” All the blood drained out of Sirius’ face, like that was a more terrifying prospect then going back to the Dementors. He melted back into his chair. “What am I going to do with a baby?”

“That’s a bridge we can cross when you get out of here. Right now I need you to sign those papers.”

Sirius startled back to them like he’d completely forgotten. “Phin, this is a forfeiture of my rights to Harry.”

“Yes.”

“Urquart, you’re asking me to give over my godson.”

“Siri,” Elphinstone tried to use the voice he did with victims, but it came out a bit more like he thought Sirius was an idiot. “You’re in Azkaban right now. When you get out I’m sure you can have all the rights you can stand, but for the moment, I need you to turn them over. I can’t protect the both of you at the same time when you can be used against one another.”

“You came here to take away my godson.”

“If you’d contributed to the murder of his parents, damn straight I did. But you didn’t, and now I need to get your testimony in front of a judge and get your godson away from the people who would use him for their ends.”

“What’s going on out there?”

“The worst Dark Lord of the century has fallen to a one-year-old child. They’re calling him The Boy Who Lived.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s safe.”

“Where?”

“Sirius, you can’t give away what you don’t know. It’s bad enough that you know that _I_ know. I’m going to have Ministry officials following me around until this all gets settled. The second no one can blackmail me about your charges, I’ll take you straight to him.”

Sirius took the quill Phineas handed him through the bars and paused with the point to paper. “Phin if I’m giving up these rights, who’s picking them up?”

“I can’t answer that.” Elphinstone raised an eyebrow. “Though I doubt I really need to.” It took Sirius a moment to catch up, but he closed his eyes and all but shuddered in relief.

“Yes, he’ll be safe there.”

“Safe as houses. You have my word.”

“And I’ll take it.” Sirius signed all the marked places with a flourish and handed the scroll back through. Elphinstone went to tug it away only for Sirius to keep a hold on it. “You… you’ll remember that I’m in here?”

Elphinstone stuck his hand the scant few inches through the bars he could manage and waived Sirius close enough that he could press his palm to the boy’s cheek. “I will move heaven and earth to get you out of here, Siri. I spent too much time training you to let you rot away on false charges.”

It was a pathetic version of ‘I love you to leave you to rot,’ but Sirius heard it all the same.


	4. Chapter 4

Elphinstone tossed his cloak over the high hedge that surrounded what most people thought was the manor’s garden maze, but really held a gravel field for dueling practice. (His ancestors had been rather fond of taking advantage of the sunshine whenever the weather presented such an opportunity.) He rolled up his sleeves with jerking motions, stepping into the center of the circle and cleared away some of the gravel that inevitably tumbled over the rune stones laid in the ground. He sharply tapped in the sequence for target practice. He didn’t give the dummies a chance to fully materialize before he started firing violent hexes that slashed, sliced, and exploded them all over the training ground.

Despite his purpose, Elphinstone’s temper reared higher with each curse instead of leeching from beneath his skin with the exercise of magic. By the time one of the Elves informed Minerva that he was home and she found her way out to the field – sans child – he was starting to sweat and tempted to blow up hedges because the harmless dissipation of magically-created dummies wasn’t stemming his rage.

With the comfort of a woman who could beat him in a duel Minerva stood at the edge of the circle and asked, “Would you like to tell me what has you in a snit?”

“Am I not entitled to one given the situation?”

“If you were the sort of fellow to throw a tantrum at unexpected occurrences then I wouldn’t have come to you with this. Now tell me what went wrong.”

Elphinstone kept his eyes on the dummies. “Tell me, Miss McGonagall, are the wards at Hogwarts so pathetic that they don’t tell the Headmaster when there’s Animagi on the school’s campus?”

“What on…” Minerva McGonagall was that rare case of human being where their name perfectly suited their disposition. She closed her eyes as though that would stem the tide of insanity and asked, “Did Sirius escape from Azkaban?”

“Did you know he was an Animagi?”

“No.”

“But you had suspicions.”

“Of course. Accepting your spirit animal in such a way changes you on a fundamental level, you know this. It’s one of the psychological reasons why so few Witches and Wizards are willing to go to the effort to become Animagi; they don’t want to confront that truth about themselves. What did Sirius do?”

Elphinstone sent off a blasting curse that ripped through three practice dummies. Minerva appreciated both the sheer power that took, and that Elphinstone was the sort of man to take his anger outside instead of bring into their home. “Your little Marauders did something illegal.”

“Other than murder?”

Elphinstone ignored the jibe. “I assume they did it for Remus.”

“You know about Remus?” Minerva demanded, though it did nothing to conceal her fear.

He rolled his eyes to the heavens. “You kidnap a child and bring it to me and still you’re nervous I’ll do something to the Werewolf boy.”

“You’re a traditionalist,” she replied, like that was any kind of justification. “How do you know?”

“Sirius told me after he got hired in the hope that I would be able to help Remus circumvent the Werewolf employment regulations.”

“And of course you didn’t.”

“I advised about fields where it would be less likely that he’d be tested for that sort of thing. However, there’s only so much subversion of the law I can do in my position, a fact you don’t seem to care about at all considering your precious little Marauders became unregistered, underage Animagi!” This was why Elphinstone had stayed outside to work through his anger instead of going straight to Minerva. She didn’t deserve his temper, no matter how easy it would be to ask her what the hell she was thinking. He drew the same soothing kind of breath he did with junior Aurors who had screwed up a case. “I assume they did it to help Remus through his shifts.”

Minerva did not appreciate being the recipient of that tone. “What does this have to do—”

“I do believe that people who turn up at other people’s homes and ask them to commit felonies should let them share their stories in their own good time, Minerva.” Her glare could have curdled the blood in his veins, but she ushered him along with a little hand waive. “I don’t know what James was, but Sirius is some massive kind of dog, and Peter, Peter was apparently the only Animagi more perfectly suited to his form than you.”

Hope was always a dangerous thing, and Minerva’s voice was strung tight with the pain of it. “Phin…”

“Mr. Pettigrew is a rat.”

Breathless, Minerva said, “He transformed in the street.”

“Shouted about Siri killing the Potters, blew a hole in the street, and vanished with the other vermin.”

Minerva all but flew across the training ground to shake more detail out of him. “But why did Sirius confess?”

“It was his idea to make Peter the secret keeper. Peter, who then betrayed their friends unto death. Sirius blames himself, and that blame plus whatever trauma comes from seeing the Potters’ shattered house and watching Peter run off into the night did him in. Azkaban isn’t really the place for Sirius to pull himself back together so he can recant.”

“We have to go! We have to get him out!” Minerva turned on her heel and this time Elphinstone was the one to do the grabbing.

“Minerva, we can’t, darling.”

“Why not?”

“I promised him we’d come for him and get him out, and we will. But until Harry is legally yours that’s the kind of trouble you can’t be courting.”

“What do you mean we can’t?”

“I mean that the Wizengamot dropped the Heir to the Noble and Ancient House of Black into Azkaban without a trial, without a hearing, and no one kicked up any kind of fuss. Even if Arcturus hates Sirius as much as the boy thinks he does – which he doesn’t – he wouldn’t allow the kind of disgrace that comes with getting caught.”

“Maybe he thinks that getting caught red-handed like that means Sirius never get out, no matter how much Arcturus protested.”

“Malfoy is already claiming _Imperius_ and he’s going to get away with it. If the Longbottom boy hadn’t been found screaming in the same damn room as his tortured parents while Bellatrix Lestrange fired curses at the Aurors who found them then she would be under house arrest instead of in a cell.”

“Why hasn’t Arcturus got him out then if you’re so certain?”

“Someone wants Sirius in. Even those who consider him a blood traitor should be terrified about what it means that the heir of an Ancient and Noble house, a man who no one can quite believe actually betrayed the Potters if they think about it for more than ten seconds, is in prison. That means terrible things for all of them. Being a member of one of their houses is supposed to offer some sort of protection, and heirs should be immune to this sort of thing. If Sirius _Black_ isn’t, then no one is. And if all Arcturus’ string pulling isn’t enough to get him out, then someone’s pulling hard the other way to keep Sirius in Azkaban.”

“And we can’t unwind those strings until Harry is secure.”

“There’s no telling what we might uncover, and the two might be connected. I’d rather, and I know Siri would agree, that we get the child protected first and then Sirius him out. I would be stunned if he’s not being kept in there to get someone access to Harry. I mean, he’s an Auror in Azkaban and no one asked any questions. The damn fool wears his heart on his sleeve. He’s never been able to lie to anybody, and we didn’t ask any questions. _I_ didn’t ask any questions.”

“Phin—”

“No Nerve, leave me with my shame. Maybe if I experience it then I’ll do better.”

“Everyone trusted that the confession was real.”

“I trusted a spontaneous confession instead of my own instincts, all the years I spent training Sirius and listening to his midnight confessions about what was done to him in that house, all the things that he was afraid he might become. He told me how alone he felt in his own damn home. And I didn’t bother to _ask_. I knew Sirius better than maybe anyone but the Marauders, and I believed the story that he betrayed them without even going to ask Sirius myself. I will bear the shame of that for the rest of my life. As well I should.”

Minerva didn’t try to talk him out of it. “It takes strength to admit when we’ve done wrong and let that wrong change us.”

It was kind in just the way Minerva would be, brutally honest but still something that might give him peace. Elphinstone wouldn’t find that peace because he was still plenty stubborn enough to feel guilty for Sirius until the day he died – or rather, guilty for what he might have let happen if he hadn’t had to go to Azkaban. Elphinstone liked to think that he would’ve hunted down the truth and never let it lie, but he was a bit horrified with the suspicion that he might not have.

Elphinstone would have preferred to climb back into his pajamas and spend the day in something between self-reflection and moping, but a silent ringing dashed his hopes. It was the telling him that they’d redirected someone’s apparition to outside his front gates. Generations of paranoid Aurors in the Urquart family meant that the wards collected information about anyone who dropped by the manor and thus were politely informing him that Aurors Fitzwilliam, Aline, and Trainee Auror Krauss had tried to come by on Elphinstone’s day off.

“We need to get inside.”

“Phin?”

“My Aurors are here.” Minerva drew her wand. “Not like that! The wards aren't sending me an intent warning, but I'd rather not have them ask me any follow up questions about what I’m doing in the garden blowing things up on my day off.”

He side-alonged Minerva back into the house while the wards pinged again from his Aurors getting impatient. Since Gingham was likely upstairs staring at the baby, he called another Elf as he kicked off his shoes.

“What are you doing?”

“I told you, I’m avoiding questions.”

Minerva McGonagall did not condescend to blush was she realized her rouse, but she got onboard by dragging her hands through his hair. Long experience told him that his hair would be up in a hundred different directions given the slightest provocation, even worse since he hadn’t bothered with hair taming spells this morning. Elphinstone untucked his shirt and dragged off his belt as the wards rang again – a triple ring that Fitzwilliam did to be irritating. Minerva reminded him about his socks, which was sufficiently unsexy enough to distract him from Minerva unbuttoning enough of the top and bottom of his shirt so it would look as though it had just recently found its way up from the bedroom floor.

Elphinstone gave Minerva a not at all lecherous grin and asked, “A kiss for authenticity?”

“I'm not the sort of woman to leave lipstick stains anywhere on your person.”

“A fact I have been grateful for more times than I can count.” The wards rang again. “All right, they shouldn’t come in, but upstairs with you just in case.” He didn’t wait for Minerva’s nod of confirmation before he apparated to the front gate with a thunderous crack.

Aline and Fitzwilliam met his booming arrival with wands drawn, while Trainee Auror Krauss jumped back before he fumbled out his weapon. “May I help you?” Elphinstone sounded out of breath and perilously close to losing his temper.

On another day Elphinstone might have been amused by the three very different reactions had by his Aurors at his state of undress. Sweet Trainee Krauss looked confused about why his boss looked like he’d just rolled out of bed but wasn’t in pajamas, while Fitzwilliam managed a smile so lascivious Elphinstone felt like he needed a shower, and Aline was deadpan enough that Elphinstone almost felt guilty for doing something enjoyable in his free time.

“Administrator Woods has asked you to come in, Sir.” Aline said before Fitzwilliam could get out whatever words were lurking behind that smile.

“Is Administrator Woods aware that it’s my day off?"

“We informed him, Sir. He asked that you come in anyway.”

“Is something on fire?” Elphinstone snapped.

All three of their spines straightened. “The Chief Administrator didn’t see fit to inform us about the nature of the events that would need your presence so immediately.”

Elphinstone looked to Fitzwilliam. “His secretary said the Chief Administrator had a private floo call right before he ordered us to bring you in. She didn’t catch who it was from, but there’s a short list of people who go straight to his floo rather than getting routed through hers.”

“Did she get you the list?”

“The Chief Administrator started yelling about how we needed to be out the door right this damn minute before she got the chance.”

“Sorry sir,” Aline said. “He wasn't in the mood to endure my clarification question distraction.”

“Well then, inform the Chief Administrator that if the matter is pressing, then he should assign it to another Senior Auror. If it isn’t pressing, then I’ll see him tomorrow morning.”

“Sir?” The Trainee Auror squeaked.

“It’s my day off, Krauss. It’s the first day off I’ve had in _three months_. I’m not coming in for anything short of the world being on fire because if I start coming in for any and all nonsense on my day off, then I won’t be able-bodied when it comes to actual world-on-fire events.”

“Don’t worry kid,” Fitzwilliam interjected, “we won’t put it to the Chief Administrator like that.”

And they didn’t. Aline politely explained that Senior Auror Urquart requested that unless the matter absolutely could not be handled by another Auror, and was so time sensitive that it had to be handled at this very moment, then he would rather have his day off respected. Despite the most polite way possible that Aline put it, Chief Auror Woods was not the sort of man who ever liked his orders being defied. Even less so when it involved practical and polite denials of times when he was asking people to jump through unnecessary hoops. “What do you mean?”

Fitzwilliam answered then. “It’s his day off, sir. I imagine he’d like to remain out of the office while he can.”

“And what was the Senior Auror doing that was so damn important he can’t answer the call of his superior officer?” Woods sneered.

“We got him out of bed.” Aline said.

“The man didn’t want to come into work because he was sleeping in?” He shouted that as though it was an unpardonable offense. While their boss was quite deliberately trying to get the attention of every Auror in the room with his volume, each one of them thought that sleeping in on their day off actually sounded quite nice.

“Based off his hair, he wasn’t in bed alone.” Fitzwilliam interjected, sending the whole Auror pool into giggles.

“Did you see who he was with?” Woods asked, and damn if that wasn’t far more interest then they’d wanted him to pay. Woods was supposed to storm off in a temper, not ask follow-up questions about Urquart’s sex life.

Before either Fitzwilliam or Aline could come up with something to distract him, Krauss all but reared up in offense. “Of course not! Auror Urquart is a gentleman and wouldn’t offend a lady in such a way!”

That was almost adorable enough that Fitzwilliam didn’t mind getting interrupted. He gave the boy a pat on the shoulder for his valiant defense, even though everyone who’d been in the department for long enough didn’t need to ask, they knew there was only one woman in the world for Elphinstone Urquart, and based off his expression, Woods knew it too.


	5. Chapter 5

Despite the number of years Elphinstone had been in law enforcement, there was still a part of him that liked to believe things would work out in his favor. His fellow Aurors liked to grumble about the annoying flaws of positivity, but he still believed that most of the time good luck was nothing more than the decision to see things as working out. That belief meant that he’d actually been expecting to have at least the rest of his morning to himself. Maybe actually get some breakfast and strategize with Minerva about which Barrister they might trust to come in and help them with custody without tipping off whoever already had Aurors at Elphinstone’s house to call him into work, probably to give him orders to track down Minerva.

What he didn’t expect, however, was to have less than a half an hour with little Harry in his lap trying to snatch pieces of waffle off his plate. He and Minerva had managed only enough Barrister-related discussion to decide to wait for Robert’s recommendations before the wards rumbled with the displeasure of someone standing out front with a Warrant.

Warrants were a rather terrifying dose of legal magic that someone had devised at the height of Grindlewald’s mania. If you had the appropriate seals from sufficiently high-ranking government officials the Warrant granted you a magical work-around that forced entry onto some Wizard’s property without their permission. It was less than a ward-buster – which came with its own magical perils – but much more than standing outside throwing curses at manor house hoping to overpower a family’s wards. As it was, had the Urquart family magic been a little less stubborn then the Aurors probably would’ve been able to apparate straight into the house.

(The magic behind Warrants was somehow tied in to the oaths that all nobles, members of the Wizengamot, and members of the Ministry swore to magical Britain. Elphinstone didn’t quite understand it, but he knew that the master of the wards would still know that someone was violating their boundaries, and that they had the right to tie in some spell that would punish trespassers. Elphinstone had exercised a Warrant _twice_ in his whole career. He’d gotten sick for it the first time and struck with a blood-letting curse the second.)

While it was a bit of a compliment that the Aurors currently making their way across Elphinstone’s front garden trusted that he didn’t have anything inbuilt to kill them for such a violation, the list of people who could floo the Chief Administrator of the DMLE directly, send Sirius Black to Azkaban without a trial, and push through a warrant on a Senior Auror’s house were vanishingly small.

At his rather too vigorous for having a small child in the room curse, Minerva went straight for his shirt. “Nerve”" That Minerva could rip the buttons right off a shirt was information that Elphinstone already possessed but would never get tired to having reaffirmed, no matter the circumstances.

“If you’re going to sell the lie, _sell the lie_.” Minerva grabbed Harry and darted up the stairs, while Elphinstone braced himself for the humiliation and undid his trousers as he ran for the front hall. He tossed the door open to find the same three Aurors as before, plus six more and the damn Chief Administrator Woods all climbing the front steps.

“What the hell is going on?” Elphinstone glanced down to do up his slacks’ button, and thus only caught the tail end of his Aurors all trying to get their expressions under control. (Honestly, he wasn’t _dead_. He appreciated that he could manipulate their surprise, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be a bit insulted by it. Though the blushing by more than a few of his Aurors at his shirtless state managed to soothe his ego.)

“Apologies sir,” Krauss said, “but we have a Warrant to search the premises.”

“Yes, I felt that. What on earth are you looking for?”

All of the Aurors looked to the Chief, and Elphinstone couldn’t guess from their expressions if they just hadn’t been informed or if not a damn one of them was willing to say it out loud.

Or perhaps none of them were willing to shield Woods from owning the utter stupidity of his actions. Elphinstone liked to fancy himself a rather likeable boss, after all. Their silent protest, however, went unnoticed. “Elphinstone Urquart, we have been granted legal authority to search your home for Minerva McGonagall.”

“You couldn’t have asked me that an hour ago?”

Elphinstone sounded so frazzled that all of the Aurors gave him little grins. “Sorry sir,” came from Fitzwilliam. “We didn’t know that’s why you were being summoned.”

Elphinstone held out his hands and wiggled his fingers in the general direction of Woods, and when the man ignored yet another silent cue, Elphinstone asked for the Warrant.

“Why?”

It took no small amount of effort to keep from rolling his eyes. “First, because it’s my right. Second, because I’d like to know if the wording means I have to take you all up to my bedroom or if I can let her have a minute to come down here.” Which was true, but his primary concern was whether or not this dubiously obtained and dangerously executed Warrant would mention _why_ they were looking for Minerva: specifically, did everyone involved know this was about baby Harry, or were they under the impression Minerva had done something else. If word had gotten out – even at such high echelons of government – that Harry Potter, The Boy who Lived and Defeated Voldemort less than a week ago, had vanished from his home, Elphinstone couldn’t imagine the kind of reprehensible witches and wizards who would crawl out of the chaos to find some way to profiteer from this terrible turn of events. As it was, Elphinstone was quite grateful he wasn’t the one on duty for this case.

The Warrant was almost reprehensibly vague, giving them only permission and the magic necessary enter Elphinstone’s property with or without his approval and go looking for Minerva McGonagall.

See, this was why even in times of emergency you shouldn’t rush, because things got missed. Because yes, it did grant them permission to come looking for Minerva, but no one had quite thought through what happened when they did.

Although, even if they had had something in mind, Elphinstone was rather willing to bet that it would’ve soared right out of their heads when they looked up the grand staircase behind him and saw Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts, retired Auror, recipient of the Order of Merlin First Class, strolling down the stairs in what very much appeared to be nothing but Elphinstone’s dressing gown.

Honestly, _his_ brain short-circuited a bit and he’d known that Minerva was here refusing to sit idly by and let herself be caught. Elphinstone been expecting a few more explosions, or if she was feeling wily that she would hide with the child in the wardroom and be hidden by a few centuries of family magic. (Minerva would likely find it hilarious that everyone had sort of been assuming that the reason Elphinstone been so cagey about staying home today was because he was having sex with someone _other_ than Minerva. Which, he didn’t know if the people in his office would consider such a betrayal of their longstanding affair to be better or worse than kidnapping The Boy Who Lived.)

As it was, Elphinstone’s brain got a little sidetracked at how now, even mostly undressed, in a dressing gown several sizes too big, falling off her shoulders and exposing the deep V leading down to her breasts, Minerva still didn’t appear soft. “You’ve found me, Chief Administrator Woods. I do hope it was worth the effort. You should know that every time a Warrant like that is executed it grows more and more likely that our right to use them at all will be stripped away for such a violation of family magic. Since I agree with their necessity, I hate the notion that I’ve been involved in any way with this ridiculous farce of a search that is likely going to end the whole Warrant process.”

Minerva didn’t glide, she strode. Despite being barefoot and the unimpressive attendant height that came with Minerva out of heels, the dressing gown managed to trail around her feet like an actual gown, and she scolded the man all the way down the stairs. Trainee Auror Krauss was young enough that he’d been a student of Minerva’s, and the poor boy looked like he expected her to take away house points for staring. With her hands on her hips, Minerva came to rest at the bottom of the stairs and just waited, staring at each one of them in turn as though they would be the one to accept the responsibility to speak.

“Well? Are you going to tell me why you’re here?”

Woods cleared his throat and summoned his courage. “Minerva McGonagall, I am taking you into custody for questioning.”

Elphinstone sighed and leaned against the rail. “No you’re not, Woods.”

Woods puffed up. “Do you think you’re going to stop me Urquart?”

“No, I think you got a Warrant to search my home, not a Warrant to take her into custody.”

“It says search and _seizure_.” The, ‘you idiot’ was implied.

“You seize _things_ , not people.” It was rather charming how the younger Aurors nodded along like they were back in training class with Elphinstone and receiving one of the basic lessons. Elphinstone made a mental note that not even Auror bosses should be given the leeway to be out of the field this long if it meant they had such lapses in common sense search procedure.

“You know damn well that’s what the Warrant implies, Urquart!”

“No, I genuinely don’t. I know that if you want to take someone into headquarters against their will then you need permission to take them into custody. You don’t get to take them off a shelf like seizing a dark artifact.”

“So you’re comparing McGonagall to a dark artifact?”

Whatever Woods might have wanted to derive from Elphinstone’s harmless implication, Fitzwilliam cut it off at the knees by stage whispering to Aline, “All you women are, especially the half-dressed ones.”

“I choose to take that as a compliment, Auror Fitzwilliam,” Minerva said.

The man swept into a low bow. “As it was intended, ma’am.” Aline still punched him in the arm for the joke.

“I _didn’t_ intend it as a compliment,” Woods interrupted.

“No one would ever think you capable of such a thing, Administrator Woods. Your lack of basic politeness aside, I am well aware of my rights. Had you knocked on Elphinstone’s gate and asked to speak with me I would’ve been perfectly willing to have a chat about whatever it is you believe I can help you with, but now I find myself unwilling to indulge your curiosity. You’ve found me, which fulfills the terms of your Warrant, and now you can see yourselves out.”

“McGonagall—”

“No. I am no longer in the mood to humor you.”

“This is not a matter of indulgence, woman! You were the last one to see him alive!”

Minerva raised her chin. “I was the last person to see many people alive, Administrator Woods. Perhaps you could be more specific.”

In case anyone had forgotten that Minerva had won her Order of Merlin in duels with Death Eaters, they remembered it now. “This is not about the war.”

“Everything will about the war for quite some time to come. If you believe anything different you are a fool.”

There were times when superior officers got to be that way because they were just that good at their jobs. And there were other times when they got there because they didn’t belong in the field. Administrator Woods was very much the latter. While the man should’ve asked Minerva to accompany him to the sitting room and then apologized for utilizing the Warrant before he explained that he was just so worried that he didn’t want to waste a single moment on something that might fail, what he did instead was announce to a room full of ten Aurors and a suspect that a 7:30 this morning Harry Potter went missing from his guardian’s home.

You could’ve heard a pin drop in the aftermath. Not a single Auror, not even the six that Woods had brought along special to keep him company, looked like they had any idea that was what they were there for. A good number of them looked up at Minerva, horrified that she might have anything to do with the disappearance of their savior.

“What do you mean, missing?” Minerva snapped.

While the rest of them looked more relieved then trained Aurors should after a single statement, Woods refused to be taken in. “Precisely what it sounds like. The wards around his home registered that you passed through them this morning, the last magical person to do so before Mr. Potter’s caregiver reported that he was missing.”

“How long?”

Woods startled at Minerva’s vehemence. “What?”

“How long did it take for them to notice he was missing?”

“I don’t—”

“I told you, Phin! I told you they weren’t taking care of him properly!” Minerva started to pace, while Elphinstone stayed right where he was leaning, content to let her handle them all, and to stay out of striking range while he murmured his agreement.

“I told you that you should assign someone to watch over him because they couldn’t be trusted with his care, and now who knows how soon after I left that someone took him! I told you those wards were insufficient!”

“Ma’am?” Aline interrupted.

“They didn’t establish intent wards around his guardian’s home,” Minerva snapped. “They only monitored for dangerous magic and frankly I’m stunned that they even noticed me since I was there such a short amount of time.”

“You weren’t supposed to be there at all,” Woods said, trying to get things on track.

“If you think I was going to willingly leave a child in a home without first verifying proper care, you are an idiot.”

“So you _did_ take him!”

“Of course not!”

Elphinstone finally stepped forward and rested steady hands on her shoulders. “Minerva wanted to file a complaint that his guardian’s home was unsafe… I suggested she wait.”

It wasn’t hard let some of the guilt that simmered beneath his skin into his voice. Minerva slung an arm around his waist and pulled him against her chest. “You weren’t wrong, love. My intuition isn’t enough to take a child from their home, no matter how much I might like it to be.”

“It’s still—”

“Yes, yes, you can feel guilty for not supporting me in my plans to stake out the house and look for evidence later, right now we have a missing child to find.” Minerva turned back towards the group of Aurors who were doing a terrible job pretending not to be listening in. “I assume that since you’ve now gotten the information you came for we can all go about the business of discovering who has taken Harry?”

“But you were the last person—”

“ _Magical_ person, do keep up, Woods. The wards weren’t set to watch for Muggles or Squibs. It would’ve been easy for some dark wizard to threaten either into kidnapping a child. I left when the family was about to sit down to breakfast and Harry seemed quite content. Now, we need to find out what happened afterwards.”

There was a long moment where Woods stared at Minerva and where Minerva gambled that Albus – because with knowledge of the wards it could only be Albus – hadn’t told at least this specific Auror the entire truth. It was a rather safe bet considering that Minerva _hadn’t_ been either the only or the last magical person through those doors – and she could only imagine what was going on at her brother’s practice this morning. But still, there was risk involved based on whether Albus had presented this as ‘capturing the kidnapper,’ or ‘oh, Minerva must know something.’ All things taken into account, the second was rather more likely.

Woods proved her intuition correct with a snobbish little nod. Before he could insist they come to headquarters with him, Minerva waived them all out and told them she and Elphinstone would be along shortly. Woods had the nerve to suggest they would wait for them, but before Elphinstone could come up with another polite lie, Minerva interrupted. “It will be a few minutes because I need to yell at Elphinstone and that’s not something any of you need to hear.”

Trainee Auror Krauss leaned into Aline and asked, “But she said—” before Fitzwilliam tossed an arm around his shoulder and said loud enough for them all to hear, “Never ask a woman why she wants to yell at you, mate. That’ll make it worse. Just stand there and take it.” Fitzwilliam gave her a little nod, then apparated away with Krauss still under his arm. The rest of the Auror brigade took their cue from Fitzwilliam and left before they had to bear witness to Elphinstone being treated like a First Year. Woods held on until the end, in a staring match with Auror Aline who silently but despite her lack of expression clearly managed to refuse to leave him behind in the presence of her boss.

Woods summoned upon his courage and declared to them both, “You have ten minutes,” before he apparated away. Aline left with a little nod, and a smirk that meant she doubted yelling was on the table.

Unfortunately, what she was implying wasn’t on the table either.

Minerva started to pace. “We can’t take him to my siblings. They wouldn’t even need a Warrant to get through their wards. And goodness knows we can’t take him to Hogwarts. We could take him into the Muggle world, try and blend in until we get custody?”

“Nerve, you know where we have to take the young Lord Potter.”

She stopped, and her sigh was worthy of a Fifth Year getting caught blowing something up with his pants down. “The bank?”

“The bank.”


	6. Chapter 6

In an amongst the many perks that came with being from one of the old Wizarding families was the perk of being ushered into private rooms and fawned over wherever your went. The Goblins weren’t much for fawning over Wizards, but they did have an innate sense for privacy. Of course, there wasn’t much that went on at the bank that _didn’t_ require privacy, but the Goblins also knew how to take one look at a person, see the disillusioned woman and child next to them and know to usher them all into a private, warded room without asking questions where everyone else could hear. The Goblin in question told them that Mr. Urquart’s account manager would be with them shortly.

Minerva and Elphinstone concerned themselves not at all with the wait since there was no way the Goblins would allow anyone from the Ministry to just roam in, or even to snatch them away before they reached the apparition point. They would be safe the entire time they were in the bank and would remain so until that brief moment of time when they arrived back at Urquart Manor but before he could raise the war wards. Hopefully by that point they would have some legal right to the child on Minerva’s lap and not pray that the wards held out until such time as they either had custody, or had Sirius, or could flee the country.

When the Goblins entered – Furkrus, Elphinstone’s account manager, and two others, one of whom was Adlor, the Hoard Chieftain – the Humans were rather too preoccupied to notice the display that they were putting on.

Urquart was crouched behind the halfback chair where Minerva sat, letting Harry use her as a climbing post to make it over the chair back. The boy looked back and forth, and when he didn’t find Elphinstone his mobile little brow furrowed and Urquart popped up with a “Boo!” Harry jumped, and then broke into the weightless giggle that only came from children. Elphinstone went back into hiding, and while the boy was busy trying to climb over McGonagall’s shoulder to find him, Elphinstone popped up on the other side and did it again. The boy curled up in a ball to avoid tickling fingers, and so missed where Elphinstone vanished to this time.  
  
Harry didn’t seem to genuinely mind the assault since he popped back up like he was spring loaded and tossed himself halfway over the chair to try again. Of course, for all Elphinstone didn’t have a reputation as a tactical genius, he was still a grownup. Rather than letting the boy catch him, Urquart frog-walked around the chair and grabbed the boy by his flailing legs. Elphinstone hefted the boy into the air and laughed pseudo-maniacally as he declared, “I caught you! Min, try and save him!” Elphinstone lowered the boy down, almost to Minerva’s waiting grasp, then just before he was about to settle into the her hands, yanked him back up. Each time man and child laughed as though it was the best thing they’d ever done — Harry likely in truth, and Elphinstone because the child’s laugh was charming. Minerva stared up at them both with eyes so tender and a face filled with so much love that she could have fueled a spell with it.

If questioned – well, no. If questioned, Chief Adlor would’ve told someone to mind their own business. But if he had been the sort of Goblin to offer justifications for his behavior then he would’ve explained that it wasn’t the softening of McGonagall’s well-known terrifying visage, and it wasn’t the laughter of a child who had known so much grief so recently, it was the playing of Urquart, confirmed bachelor and last of his house that made Adlor decide to be helpful.

Lord Urquart wasn’t an intimidating man – certainly not when compared to his lover – neither was he terribly powerful in his magic and station, nor was he well known to be anything more than perfectly serviceable in whatever he did. He was reliable, he was stable, he was kind, and he was one of those rare people who if his name was remembered, it would be as a footnote to Minerva McGonagall. He was that rare sort of man who would be perfectly content and not at all bitter with such a fate.

It appeared that although he was adequate in all things that drew a Wizard praise, the area in which Elphinstone was gifted was one he had never been given the opportunity to shine: fatherhood.

Elphinstone swung the child up and around by one leg, letting him hover in the air on his own for just a breath before he caught the boy against his chest and laughed while the Potter heir shouted, “‘gain! ‘gain!”

Urquart dipped him this time, and looked up to find the three Goblins watching them.   
“Ah.” Elphinstone rotated himself and the child into a bow. “Well met, Chief Adlor.”

“I trust you have a justification for this?”                                                         

McGonagall rose from her chair like an empress. “Harry was left with Lady Potter’s Muggle relatives who hate magic. They were abusing him.”

All three of the Goblins stiffened. For all the Goblins were a fierce people and abhorrent of the whole of Wizard kind, the young were precious to their people and they regarded all children, no matter the species, with fond regard. That any child might have been abused would be all the motivation they needed to help, even if they weren’t tempted to help Elphinstone be a father. “Do you have proof?”

Minerva handed over the transcription scroll that had been queued up to the last part just before she had interfered. “There are other moments of verbal abuse, but that was the moment it became physical.”

Adlor was satisfied with only that portion of the scroll, handing it over to the unknown Goblin. He just tucked it away instead of reading. “And what brought you to us?”

“We would like to see the Potter’s will.”

“More specifically,” Elphinstone interrupted, “we have suspicions about who was supposed to get guardianship of Harry, but we’d like to know for sure.”

“And if these Muggles are supposed to have guardianship over the Potter heir?”

“Then I believe they have established themselves as unsuitable for such a responsibility.”

That was enough for Chief Adlor. He gestured at the unknown Goblin. “This is Griphook, the Potter account manager.”

Griphook looked rather displeased to be answering a witch’s questions, but one didn’t defy Chief Adlor’s wishes. “Primary custody of Heir Potter was to be bestowed upon his godfather, Sirius Black. In the event that Sirius was incapable of taking on that responsibility, custody was intended to go to Alice and Frank Longbottom. If neither of them were capable of taking custody – and the will states that if he had not died in the same venture that took Sirius’ life – custody was to go to Remus Lupin. The will then states that if none of the above parties were capable of assuming custody, or if, and I quote, the ‘Ministry held to their bigotry’ and kept Mr. Lupin from assuming custody, Lord Potter utilized the ancient codifications and called upon the House of Potter’s longstanding alliances with the Houses of Longbottom, Graves, and Abbott to see to the care and disposition of the last scion of the House of Potter according to the old way of such things.”

Though the McGonagall family didn’t count as a house and the Urquarts were rather prized for their independence, this would be the easiest way to petition for custody. While any of the three families would fight tooth and nail to be the ones who raised The Boy Who Lived, Minerva would be able to strong arm any of them into primary custody going to her and Elphinstone because they were the ones who actually knew the boy.

“And have any of them been contacted to begin the process of assuming custody?” She asked.

“The Potters’ will has been sealed.” Griphook declared.

Minerva and Elphinstone stared at the Chief in disbelief for a long moment. “I beg your pardon?”

“It seems the Potters’ will has been sealed and is not scheduled to be executed.”

“How are they managing that?” Elphinstone sounded genuinely curious, as though he was flipping through his mental Rolodex to discover what legal justification they could provide.

“Sirius Black is the executor of the Potter’s estate. While he is in Azkaban, the estate cannot be dispensed with, including the custody of Heir Potter.”

“But the Wizengamot can appoint one in his stead.”

“They have declined to do so.”

“You mean the Chief Warlock has declined to do so,” Minerva snapped.

“That is my understanding, yes.”

“So, so long as Sirius stays in prison, no one has any right to see to Harry’s welfare.”

“No one but some anonymous government agent,” Elphinstone pointed out.

“Conveniently an agent who is likely also that same Chief Warlock.”

“Why would they trust the welfare of Harry Potter to anyone less than the great Dumbledore himself?”

Minerva fought against the ingrained impulse to defend Albus against slander as she had so often done. Even though she would no doubt like to demand an explanation from Albus and would likely accept it, this wasn’t the place for such a defense. (Nor was she quite in the mood to think well of his meddling impulse.)

“Well then,” Elphinstone sighed, “do you have any suggestions about what we might do for young Harry? Because all I can think of at the moment is to go to Arcturus Black and support him when he starts strong-arming people about his grandson being sent to Azkaban without a trial.”

“Were you not planning on doing that anyway?” Chief Adlor asked.

“Of course, but we were planning on waiting until after we’d secured custody of Harry before turning over that hornet’s nest. Sirius agreed to wait.”

“You’ve been to Azkaban already?”

“Ah, yes.” Minerva handed over the forfeiture of parental rights from both Petunia Dursley and Sirius Black while Elphinstone explained. “I promised Siri we’d give his rights back when he got out, but it seemed safer to have him off the board when it came to a potential custody battle.”

“And what is your right to the child that makes you think you’d win such a fight?”

No one bothered looking at Elphinstone. “Not one,” Minerva said. “I’d rather have him with the two of us since the next people on that list of potential guardians are just families that we’d have to trust to sort it out themselves and remain in Harry’s best interest, but affection is the only right to Harry I can claim. That, and being the only person on this whole damn island with sense enough to be sure that he was someplace safe after the death of his parents.”

“I’m afraid a right of practicality is not the same thing as a right of legality.”

“I’m well aware of that, thank you very much.”

“All right!” Elphinstone interrupted. “If all of us could step shouting at one another for a moment and remember that there is a _child_ in the room. Also, that for all of us our primary concern is the health and wellbeing of that child.”

“We’re not arguing,” Chief Adlor grumbled at Elphinstone for daring to lecture them all.

“Not arguing then, but I believe that at the moment we need to concern ourselves more with how we might deal with the issue of custody when we _cannot_ deal with custody and the person in charge of Harry cannot be trusted to treat him with the care we all agree he deserves.”

“‘Arry!” the boy echoed, bouncing in Elphinstone’s arms.

“Yes, that’s you!” he rewarded the boy with tickles, uncaring about how he was stared at. Minerva, however, noticed the way the Goblins looked at one another, somehow doing so without the disdain Goblins so often showed to Wizards.

“Do you have any recommendations for us?”

“Insofar as I understand Wizarding law, you have three options. Dumbledore, or whoever is pulling the strings, has enough sway in the Wizengamot that they are able to keep Sirius Black from getting a trial. While a miscarriage of justice, that is not so wholly impossible for any person in the Wizengamot to carry out since they are all quick to consider Sirius reprehensible because of the easy way it plays into their own prejudices and their desire to see anyone punished for their involvement in the Potters’ death.” Minerva did not point out that they also had enough power to get a Warrant, and that narrowed the list even more. “The first option is to walk into the Wizengamot and attempt to beat them at their own game.”

“Neither of us is capable of that level of deception,” Minerva declared and Elphinstone nodded along.

“Option number two would be to go to Lord Black and tell him that Sirius is innocent and let him do the steamrolling through the Wizengamot on your behalf.”

“Which presents its own risks should he decide to take advantage of the custody situation. And the third?”

“Magical adoption.”

The silence was deafening. “Ah, so we’re going from risky to suicidal,” Elphinstone said.

Minerva was not in the mood for jokes. “If we tired to magically adopt the last scion of the House of Potter, their family magic would burn us to death for daring to have the notion.”

“Possibly.” Chief Adlor shrugged. “Or the Potter family magic might recognize that there are no other options and accept that you are doing all in your power to protect their last of their line.”

“But it would be the end of one of the greatest houses in Britain!”

“But it would protect the child.”

“If it doesn’t kill us!”

“All right! We’ll table that option for even worse emergencies. As it is, do you have any recommendations for custody barristers?” Elphinstone interrupted before Minerva could reach the point of irritation where she started accusing the Goblins of conspiring to destroy one of the great houses.

“I can make a recommendation, if you believe that Lord Black won’t have his own barrister that insists upon using.”

Furkrus handed them a frantically squiggled list of barristers, so at least one Goblin was more concerned with fulfilling their obligation to the deceased Potters than sniping. Elphinstone gave him a grateful nod. “Well then, would you mind letting us borrow your apparition point?”

“I would ask if you’re off to visit Lord Black, but considering there are Aurors waiting upstairs I believe it would be better if I didn’t know.”

Elphinstone puffed out a long breath. “Would you be amenable to telling us what charges have brought them to your door?”

“No one has yet tossed out the word kidnapping but your Aurors are attempting to bring Miss McGonagall in for questioning.”

“Does their paperwork actually day that this time?”

“What did it give them permission for this morning?”

“To search my home for her.” Elphinstone still sounded smug about that.

“And not to question her or take her into custody?”

“Nope.”

Minerva didn’t know that Goblins could roll their eyes. “What did they think was going to happen?”

“I did submit myself to questioning,” Minerva pointed out. “I simply left them with the implication that a Muggle came in for Harry after I left.”

“And then we didn’t follow them back to the Ministry to help in the search.” Elphinstone added

“So they rightly assumed that you were involved instead of thinking that you had gone off to handle matters on your own?” Adlor asked.

“Presumably the same person pulling the strings regarding Sirius is the one who led them down the garden path of that assumption as well.” And that’s precisely how Elphinstone phrased the problem to Lord Arcturus Black.

Unlike with the Goblins – who despite Elphinstone’s lack of worldly position still had respect the Urquart money – Lord Black had always appreciated Minerva. In Arcturus’ eyes, the purity of Elphinstone’s blood was outweighed by how much Sirius liked him. Minerva suspected that Arcturus and the whole Black family had chalked Sirius’ disavowal of the Black way of life as nothing more than youthful folly, supposing that when he was confronted with the difficulties of the real world he would come running home for money. Elphinstone, however, had boggled everyone’s minds when he’d chosen Sirius out of the Auror training pool and made the reckless boy his apprentice. It was quite difficult to expect a boy to come running home with his tail between his legs when he was busy establishing himself in his chosen field of labor.

(Minerva suspected that it didn’t help matters that last Christmas, Elphinstone had been the one to drag a protesting Sirius away from his pout on the Potters’ living room couch and to the Black Christmas Eve ball – which would still be held come hell, high water, or Wizarding blood war. It was quite difficult to properly hate the man who had scolded your son into coming home for Christmas and then stayed beside him all night to keep him from drinking enough to cause a scene.)

With Minerva, however, Arcturus had a surprisingly good relationship. Never once had Minerva cared about the bloodlines of her little lions, and she wasn’t about to start just because one of her first years was a Black. Gryffindor stood for courage, not blood purity, and she made sure that every student under her care who got it into their heads that cruelty to Sirius was acceptable on such grounds quickly received a lesson in their folly. It got to the point that the whole of Sirius’ first year she would automatically lay out tea for Arcturus to drop by and get her report on how Sirius was doing. His concerns grew less as the years went on and Sirius proved himself to have a loyal circle of friends around to defend him, but even after Sirius had run away from home Arcturus was still one of the most involved parents she’d ever had, despite actually being Sirius’ grandfather.

Arcturus did Minerva and Elphinstone the respect of meeting them in his private study. Over a century of good breeding meant Lord Black didn’t react to the boy asleep in Elphinstone’s arms. He led Minerva to a chair – leaving Elphinstone standing – and then offered her tea. Minerva’s eyebrows were perfectly expressive, as she demanded, “Really” with one.

“Would you rather I ask you uncomfortable questions about the child?”

“Of course I would. Why else would I be here but because of the child?”

“Maybe you've decided it’s time to pay me back for all those visits I paid you while Sirius was a student.”

“And perhaps I’ve had my personality transplanted with someone else.”

“I intend no offense Minerva, but that would be preferable to whatever circumstances might lead you to bring a baby to my door. I would really rather not have these be how I discover that Sirius wasn’t keeping up with his contraception charms.”

“It is Sirius’ child, but only because his best friend died leaving him in his care.”

Arcturus’ face could have been a textbook example of impassivity. “And you thought to turn the Potter child over to _me_ instead?”

“No,” Elphinstone interrupted, “we thought that since Sirius is innocent you might want to get him out of Azkaban so he can do his duty as godfather.” It wasn’t from Arcturus’ expression, but from the clatter of his teacup that told them he was moved.

Sheer force of will was all that let Arcturus set down the cup with steady hands. “Tell me everything.” And they did.

Lord Black listened silently to the entire affair. At the conclusion of their recitation of facts he leaned forward and looked at Elphinstone with intense devotion. “Do you believe him?”

“I would swear on my own magic that I believe his explanation rather than the official line being spewed.”

Men were occasionally such interesting creatures, because despite loathing Elphinstone and all he stood for, Arcturus respected him enough that it took all of Minerva’s persuasive powers to keep Lord Black from storming Azkaban himself, since no thought could be as powerful in fuelling a Patronus to fight off Dementors as knowing that his grandson hadn’t sunk so low as to betray a beloved friend unto such a death. Arcturus was convinced to summon the Black family barrister and conduct a metaphorical assault rather than a physical one.

(The barrister came in with sad eyes, as though this was a conversation he’d had with Lord Black several times over the last few days and it was breaking his heart to have to tell the old man yet again that there was no saving his grandson when there was a confession. If circumstances were different, Albus would’ve loved to see the memory of the barrister’s face when Elphinstone Urquart stepped into the room and told the barrister _he_ was the one who insisted that Sirius was innocent. Minerva was actually a bit surprised that the man’s eyes hadn’t fallen straight out of his head.)

From there it was a whirlwind from which Minerva and Harry had blissfully been excused. Elphinstone apparated them both back to his manor and immediately raised the war wards. Thankfully he didn’t feel the wards expelling anyone, so that was a relief that bought them some time. Then Elphinstone left for the barrister’s office with the intention to be in and out as soon as possible after swearing to his certified testimony. There was no one out looking for him, and with even the smallest bit of luck the people looking for Minerva would believe that they were working together on an ultimate goal of getting Sirius out. How that would keep them from suspecting she had baby Harry, she didn’t know, but being behind war wards made that a significantly smaller worry.

As it was, Minerva McGonagall was nothing if not prepared. She took Harry – asleep in a bassinet that the Elves had been beyond thrilled to dig out of storage – with her into the library where she conducted a very thorough search of magical adoption. Just in case.


	7. Chapter 7

Elphinstone did not fancy himself a stupid man. He’d never been of a reckless disposition, always weighing costs and benefits before he chose to act. (Hence his decades-long ‘affair’ with Minerva. He’d gotten more than his fair share of shit from other men about following after a woman who’d never marry him, but the benefit of having her in any way – especially if he would ever be able to convince her to marry him – outweighed the costs to his pride. Elphinstone wasn’t the romantic sort of hero who’d go charging into a situation and barrel his way through with brawn and bravado.

Which is why he was rather embarrassed that to find himself strapped into the criminal’s chair waiting for an emergency assembly of the Wizengamot.

The tip leading to his arrest must have come from one of the many assistants at Black’s barrister’s office, and Elphinstone felt a bit of an idiot for not insisting that his interview be moved to Black Manor. None of them had suspected that the Aurors would be out looking for him too, but it was quite difficult to summon up any positivity on the subject when he had his head strapped back to a board like Sirius’ had been that very morning. Unable to turn his head away from the Wizengamot benches he could only hear people crashing through the doors like they were sure they had to have misread their summons, there was no way Elphinstone Urquart was here, about to be subjected to questioning. By the time they made it into his field of vision all of them had gotten their bodies under control, if not their faces.

Despite his physical discomfort, Elphinstone knew that things could only get _so_ terrible for him since Lord Black had used his might as one of the Ancient and Noble houses to demand Elphinstone’s hearing take place in front of the full Wizengamot instead of the ‘special assembly’ that undoubtedly would’ve happened otherwise. (‘Special assembly’ being the polite way of referring the questioning occurring in front of only one, likely sympathetic, member of the Wizengamot. In this case, that would’ve been just Dumbledore.) But there was only so much information that Dumbledore would want Elphinstone to share in front of the entire Wizengamot, so he could trust that the questions wouldn’t be too invasive.

The Chief Warlock gave the Wizengamot half an hour to assemble after receiving the emergency call from Administrator Woods. It was half an hour where Elphinstone sat strapped down as though he ought to be counted amongst the worst of the Wizarding World’s criminals and not a highly decorated and trustworthy Senior Auror. It gave Elphinstone a small bit of comfort to hear yelling that unless he’d committed a murder that very morning, he didn’t deserve such restraints. Vague bastard that he was, Dumbledore just declared that it would all make sense in when he began the questioning.

Dumbledore was well aware that he only had an infinitesimal amount of goodwill to extended to him in this situation, so after he completed the name and date formalities, his first question was, “Did you participate in the kidnapping of Harry James Potter?”

You’d have thought a bomb had gone off from the noise that erupted. There had been many long years where Elphinstone had considered Dumbledore a friend and ally, and in any circumstances where Elphinstone wasn’t the one strapped down he would’ve dragged the man off by his long beard and asked to know what in the world he was thinking. That was the kind of damaging information that you shouldn’t let get out in open court where you had reporters in the gallery transcribing every word and already running out the door to tell their editors to print a special edition. People were going to get hurt, black-haired babies the whole country over were going to find themselves snatched from their prams so random strangers could check their foreheads for the lightning-shaped scar that the press had been talking about all week.

Dumbledore didn’t extend himself to getting everyone to shut up anytime soon, reading the room and letting the anarchy rage around him until his declaration had bought himself the most amount of leeway possible. “Do you have an answer for us, Mr. Urquart?”

“I did not participate in any such kidnapping.”

“But you do know where Harry Potter is.”

“I know where he was. I don’t know if he’s still there.”

“May I assume that where he was, was Urquart Manor?”

“You may.”

The room erupted again, this time with frantic and horrified whispers. It sounded not entirely unlike the room when the Aurors heard about Sirius.

“Why?” one of the Wizengamot members demanded.

Since these were not circumstances to be glib, Elphinstone answered the question the Wizengamot intended to ask rather than the one he actually did. “Because Harry was being abused.”

“What?” Dumbledore’s voice echoed over the tumult of noise.

Another man rose to his feet and demanded, “Do you have proof?”

Elphinstone spread his fingers as in his closest approximation of spreading his arms. “It’s not on me at the moment. Though perhaps if you allowed my barrister into the room he’d be able to provide it to you.” It had been a deft slight of hand that had gotten Minerva’s scroll out of Elphinstone’s pocket and to the Black barrister before the cuffs had been snapped on him. The logic was that Elphinstone wasn’t being accused of anything, he was just being questioned and as such didn’t require the support of a legal defense. If he had nothing to hide, he needn’t worry about what he might reveal seated atop an honesty hex. The Black barrister, however, wouldn’t let that evidence leave his hands without permission to enter the Wizengamot and defend his client.

In the interim, another of the members demanded to know what the evidence was going to say. That information Elphinstone could happily provide. “That Harry James Potter, last scion of the House of Potter, was left in the care of people not specified in his parents’ will. Specifically, to Lily Evans Potter’s Muggle relatives. Relatives who abhor magic, the former Lord Potter, and in turn, young Harry.”

“And how did you come by this information?”

“Albus Dumbledore informed Minerva McGonagall about the placement of Heir Potter. Based on information that Lily had shared about her family and Minerva’s own observations, she was concerned about even a temporary placement of Harry in their care. Utilizing an Auror-grade transcription quill, Miss McGonagall recorded the events in the house until such point that her ethics no longer permitted her to leave Harry in their care.”

“Where did she get such a quill?” Bartimus Crouch, head of the DMLE demanded, while another Wizengamot member retorted. “Who cares about that, what happened that made her snap?”

“As you know, Mr. Crouch, Miss McGonagall once belonged to the Auror department. She kept her quill after her retirement. As for what happened, Lily Evans’ brother-in-law shook Heir Potter. Given the damage that we all have seen such treatment do to children, she could not in good conscience leave the boy with them.”

“Is such evidence admissible if it didn’t come from a real transcription quill?”

The question was directed towards Administrator Woods, but Elphinstone answered it. “It can come in as supporting evidence to Minerva’s own testimony. The events she watched regarding the treatment of Harry Potter count as eyewitness testimony, and the document will support every word. Also, I’m sure the Auror department would be more than happy to verify the accuracy of the quill before its recording is submitted to the court.”

“Right, can we take the chains off him now?” Another member out of Elphinstone’s range of sight objected.

“He aided and abetted a kidnapper!”

“The child was being abused!”

“You don't run off with abused children, you call NSPCC!”

“NSPCC that apparently placed the child there in the first place!”

And really, having his head strapped down so he could only stare straight forward was getting quite irritating. There was only so much a man could see out of his peripheral vision and it wasn’t helping him identify who was and wasn’t talking. He knew at least that Dumbledore hadn’t spoken since the word abuse had been mentioned, and that Lord Black seemed content to let others make his argument for him.

“She _did_ take him to an Auror, it just happened to be one that she knew she could trust.”

“That’s not how the system works!”

“Gentlemen!” Dumbledore interrupted. “I dropped Harry off at Lily’s relatives myself. We cannot fault Minerva for taking the path of most security when she was under the impression that NSPCC might send him right back, despite her objections. Was it dramatic? Yes. But wouldn’t we rather our people be vigorous in the defense of children instead of not?” Dumbledore sounded genuine in his defense. Elphinstone had the suspicion that whatever role Dumbledore might have played in keeping Harry at his Muggle relatives rather than where he ought to be it never crossed the man’s mind that Harry would be anything other than loved.

“Well said, Chief Warlock.” The Black barrister had finally made it in. He set the scroll on the enchanted table that would copy it to the seat of every member of the Wizengamot. “Here you will find the complete record of Minerva McGonagall’s evidence taken while observing Heir Potter in the care of his relatives. The most relevant passages are marked.”

Silence descended over the room as they all read, some with greater depth and gravity than others. Several rolled straight to the end to verify Elphinstone’s claim of physical abuse and asked, “Who is _supposed_ to have custody of Harry?”

For the first time, Arcturus Black spoke. “Sirius.”

Before the rumble could rise about the impossibility of such a notion, the Black barrister interrupted. “On that note, I would like to ask this body why Heir Black has yet to be given any manner of hearing regarding the evidence against him or his future trial date?”

“Someone’s done that, I’m sure,” One of the members said in full confidence.

“I’m afraid not, Lord Hugh. The charges against Heir Black have been brought before no member of this body in a special assembly, and yet he sits in Azkaban.”

“Where traitors deserve to be!”

“What proof do you have that he’s a traitor, good sir?”

“The testimony of Peter Pettigrew before your client blew him to smithereens!”

“A curse that according to every Muggle interview, he cast silently?”

The room fell silent and one member managed to ask, “I beg your pardon?”

“Every witness agrees that Pettigrew accused Heir Black of betraying the Potters – which if it is true would be a remarkable deception for a man that has been accused of wearing his heart on his sleeve, a man who managed to convince Lord Potter to trust him enough to not only name him as his son’s godfather but also to entrust him to Black’s care and raising should he fall. Every witness also agrees that Black screamed and ran towards Pettigrew, and then Pettigrew exploded.”

“You just said that he screamed a curse at him!”

“No.” The barrister flicked open his briefcase and withdrew a scroll, soaking up the silence as he donned his glasses and let it roll to the necessary quote. “According to one witness statement Black ‘sounded like a wounded animal,’ but no witness mentioned even a suggestion of a word coming from Black. And if he _had_ fired a curse, why run towards Pettigrew?”

“What about the witness memories?”

“According to the Auror office, none were collected.”

“None?” The Wizengamot member sounded as baffled by that as Elphinstone.

“None. It seemed the investigating Aurors considered the matter quite open and shut.” If Elphinstone still had his job at the end of this someone was getting strung up by their thumbs and then fired.

“Excuse me!” Another man shouted, “We’re not here to discuss the treatment of Sirius Black, we’re to enquire as to the location of Harry Potter!”

“The boy was being abused, Parker. We can all read that.” Another member objected.

“And if I may,” the Black barrister interrupted before the members could run off with themselves. “The two matters are highly connected. If Sirius Black is innocent, then the matter of his custody is a temporary one and we will be able to honor his parents’ wishes. Considering that Miss McGonagall was the one who discovered the abuse and risked her life and reputation to save him from another moment of it, I suggest that we leave him in her care until such time as the issue of Heir Black is resolved.”

“Proposed!” Called one member, and another seconded. Dumbledore called for a vote immediately before they had any chance to think things through and choose another option – like asking whom else the will might specify. The vote was overwhelmingly affirmative and with a sigh, the cuffs unlocked from around Elphinstone’s limbs and the cage door swung open before him.

The barrister somehow managed to keep withdrawing papers and arguing his point while he gave Elphinstone a pointed look towards the door. It took Elphinstone a long moment to wrangle down the urge to stay and fight for his Auror. As of right now, his first priority needed to be his child. So instead, Elphinstone swallowed his pride and slipped out the door. The sight he came home to nearly made Elphinstone’s unlawful imprisonment worth it. He knew almost nothing about the growth of small humans, but he could testify that watching one toddle around after Minerva, doing his best to pace the length of the room as she did on his tiny legs was perhaps the greatest sight in the world.

“What has the two of you so tense?” They both jumped and ran to Elphinstone, all but tumbling him to the ground in their enthusiasm. The Wizarding Wireless had only carried the legal proceeding again Elphinstone, cutting out the moment his bounds were loosed. Minerva demanded to know what had happened afterwards. Did they keep accusing him of things? Did they still think Minerva had kidnapped Harry? Were they on their way to check on Harry's condition? With every question Harry popped out his soother and spouted his own incomprehensible sound of agreement. Elphinstone could see every argument for the rest of his life going just this way. He was going to be well reasoned and sad-eyed into retirement inside the next year.

The rest of the evening was awash in hugs, sandwiches for dinner, and chasing Harry around in possibly the most rambunctious game of tag the house had ever seen because no matter what else, the boy was a baby Marauder. Minerva had taken care of her nieces and nephews often enough that she was a stickler for adherence to bedtime, which was when everything started to fall apart.

Up until that point, Harry’s tiny brain must have assumed he was just playing with new friends, vastly better friends than the Dursleys had been. And with these better friends, that meant his parents were coming home. Elphinstone had not the slightest idea how to explain death to a one-year-old, and though he was certain Minerva was winging things a bit and tying to talk to Harry like a first year, she tried to explain that Harry’s mommy and daddy weren’t coming back. That set off a torrent of so many sobs and screams that Elphinstone was legitimately concerned the boy was going to damage his throat or get dehydrated. Harry refused to be put down into the crib, some sixth sense rousing him even from sleep when their bodies moved away from his. Even when he wasn’t gulping out heartbroken sobs he still managed forlorn huffs and sniffles against Minerva’s dressing gown.

With a harried flick of her wand, Minerva transfigured the rocking chair to fit two slightly squished grown adults. That was the only sign she gave that she would rather have Elphinstone stay with her and harry. As one needed to be when in a relationship with Minerva McGonagall, Elphinstone was a master of implied communication. He pressed himself into the corner of the chair, one foot on the ground the keep the chair rocking, the other pressed against the back of the chair so he could pull Minerva and Harry into the V of his thighs, wrapping his legs around them both, a physical wall between Minerva and the world so she could cradle Harry close to her chest and concern herself with murmuring words of comfort in his ear, her own bulwark against the sadness that neither one of them could do a thing to soothe.

Elphinstone remembered sharing his brokenhearted midnight tears with Gingham, who even now had nudged Elphinstone’s foot up beside Minerva and elongated the chair into a bench so they could lean back a bit. The Elf set his magic to keep the chair rocking at the perfect pace that the cramp in Elphinstone’s human calf couldn’t quite maintain.

Gingham hadn’t offered to relieve the humans of their burden, despite how the exhaustion would curse them all come morning. In fact, based on the little pat Gingham managed to reach up and give to Elphinstone’s head, he was almost certain that the little Elf was actually rather proud of him.

(Elphinstone made a mental note to grill Gingham about the proper care and feeding of Wizard children, because as it stood, Elphinstone only knew enough to know when a child was being mistreated and another division should be called in, not about the day to day things that a parent probably ought to be doing.)

That thought – mental note though it had been – struck Elphinstone between the ribs.

Parent.

He was considering himself a _parent_.

And not in the temporary, ‘keep the child alive until its parents come back to claim it’ sort of way that he’d managed on a few rare occasions with Minerva’s nieces and nephews. But a, ‘I want to be this child’s father,’ sort of way. The ‘I want to teach him to ride a broom, and see him off to Hogwarts, and embarrass him when he gets caught with someone in his room,’ sort of way. The, ‘I want to be involved in his life’ sort of way.

It was a potent dose of parental interest that had never before struck Elphinstone in _any_ way, let alone so much that he was planning on altering the entire course of his life for the boy wrapped in Minerva’s arms.

Soon enough he felt the tension release from Minerva’s shoulders. She wasn’t asleep, but Harry was, and that was enough to let her relax against him. So profound was the relaxation that Minerva was unconscious herself before she had the chance to plot and plan as she undoubtedly would have if the exhaustion hadn’t taken her.

Gingham gave it a few minutes – though whether to be sure that they both were asleep or that Elphinstone wasn’t about to fall asleep himself, he didn’t know – before the Elf perched on the arm of the rocking chair and asked, “Would Sir like to put everyone to bed?”

Elphinstone should say yes. No matter how comfortable Gingham made the chair, they were all going to regret it in the morning. Considering that Elphinstone would likely be spending tomorrow in front of the Wizengamot trying to keep Sirius free, sleeping in a bed was an absolute necessity. There was no point in giving the assholes any advantage that he didn’t have to.

However, as tomorrow might bring with it saving Sirius, so too would saving Sirius mean losing Harry. And though Elphinstone traced a fingertip along the bridge of the baby’s nose feeling like a terrible person, he knew that losing Harry would also mean losing Minerva. Oh, she’d be back at some point – she always was – but this very morning Minerva had all but proposed to him, issuing an order that Harry was going to be their child and they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. As went Harry, so would go Minerva. She wouldn’t blame Elphinstone, but he knew her well enough to know that Minerva was making her own plans for their future. And to have those stripped away from her and being reduced to the person Sirius called in panic about what to do with Harry when he couldn’t stop crying would drive her away to lick her wounds.

No, Elphinstone would stay in this moment, exhausted and with a twinge in his back, because he might never have it again. He told Gingham to move them after he’d fallen asleep. Though Elphinstone felt like a bit of a fool, Ginghams didn’t tease. The Elf gave him another pat and left Elphinstone to his dreams.


	8. Chapter 8

Early on in the war Minerva had often woken to the harsh clang of her wards being violated through the sheer magical force that was an illegal ward buster. Never let it be argued that Death Eaters were smart, but soon enough even they realized that despite being wards that Minerva had put up herself rather than the ancient sort of wards that were fueled by generations of blood and magic, Minerva’s own strength and wrath made her wards something to be reckoned with. She had been certain that she knew full well how terrible the falling of wards could be, but despite not being lined with a speck of Minerva’s own magic, it was nauseating to have the charming wards of Urquart Manor come tumbling down around them while they slept.

Elphinstone was out of bed like a shot, wearing clothes from one step to the next thanks to a snap of Gingham’s fingers. “They be Aurors, Sir.” Gingham’s magic got Minerva dressed before she even made it out of a bed she didn’t remember climbing into, with a charmed dummy between Harry’s lips to keep him from crying. “They be on their way upstairs. House’s magic be keeping them from apparating, but we be slowing them down.”

“Don’t you dare!” Minerva demanded, handing off the baby to Elphinstone while Gingham wove a heavily charmed strip of fabric around them both so Harry would stay bundled against Elphinstone’s chest.

“Just until you gets out, Miss Nervie. Then we hide and we follow you when it’s safe.”

“I hate to have any of you near him, but see if one of you can contact Lord Black and find out why they’re raiding me."

Gingham handed Elphinstone the official paperwork granting the Aurors the right to bring Urquart and McGonagall into custody by any means necessary.

Minerva read it over Elphinstone’s shoulder and murmured, “That’s the kind of language they only use when they’re capturing Death Eaters.”

“How did you get this?” Elphinstone asked.

“Young Gary be quick.”

“He picked an Auror’s pocket?” Gingham just shrugged like it was obvious. “Don’t let yourselves get hurt on our account, Gingham.”

Gingham could not have possibly looked more tempted to call Elphinstone an idiot. Sacrificing for their families was what House Elves _did_. Young Harry had no one to look after him because every Elf in Potter Manor had died trying to save his grandparents and James couldn’t bring himself to bond with another after the bloodbath. Instead of expressing his thoughts, because already they were wasting too much time talking, Gingham grumbled an entirely insincere, “Yes sir,” handed Elphinstone a go bag full of essentials, and dropped a kiss on Harry’s forehead before he popped back to the Elves’ sneak attack. (And if he hesitated just a moment to look up at the man who had once been a boy that he’d loved and raised himself now cradling a son of his own against his chest, then that was neither here nor there.)

“Right.” Elphinstone cleared his throat, not thinking about how little of his house and his people could be here when they came back. “To Black Manor?”

“No.” Minerva held out her hand and yanked Elphinstone close, pressing little Harry in between their bodies before she apparated them into the night.

 

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There are certain secrets of Hogwarts known only to those to love it well. More secrets still are known only to those whose love had led them to perform some great service to the school. It was not enough to be a Head of House, or a Headmaster or Headmistress to be entrusted with those secrets. While there was much Albus Dumbledore knew about Hogwarts, there were certain things that Minerva McGonagall had been shown in her short tenure that Albus had never been gifted despite his decades of service. (If asked, Hogwarts would say that there was a difference between _hiding_ at Hogwarts to protect yourself from the temptations of the world and _choosing_ Hogwarts after you’d already been in possession of the world.)

Certain secrets were accepted fact: the Ravenclaws had their own house library and the Hufflepuffs had direct access to the kitchens. Other secrets had entered the realm of legend: Slytherin had a Chamber of Secrets left only for his heir and Gryffindor had left behind his weapons to use in times of need.

Other secrets still had never been written down, just left for others find and rediscover the particulars for themselves rather than be taught. Minerva had her suspicions that each Founder had left behind some such private secret for those that followed after, though despite her friendships with Filius and Pomona she would never ask for even the suggestion of theirs. It was enough for her to know that deep in the Forbidden Forest Godric Gryffindor had left a stone circle.

The circle had been enchanted with a more tailored version of the Notice Me Not charms that protected Hogwarts, designed to keep out not only Muggles, but every Witch and Wizard save those who Hogwarts herself and whatever bit of Gryffindor’s magic was left in the castle deemed worthy of the privilege.

It was not – nor did Minerva think it had ever been – one of those finely manicured circles found in a field of shorn grass. The massive oaks had grown up beside the stones, forming a circle of their own that despite overwhelming rocks in size still managed to accent the standing stones rather than dwarf them. Even the late autumn leaves that covered the forest ground in a carpet of crackle only brought themselves up just to the barest edge of the circle, with the occasional brave leaf venturing across in an invisible breeze. The ground of the circle itself was covered in bright green moss that silently beckoned you to shed your shoes and treat the ancient place with the respect it deserved.

Which is precisely what Elphinstone did, despite having a thousand questions – not the least of which was whether or not as a Hufflepuff he was even allowed to be here. He toed off his shoes and set the bag full of baby items and a change of clothes beside them. It was all safely behind a stone to keep the sanctity of the circle while trusting that the ambient magic would stop anything untoward from crawling its way into the bag.

He left Minerva to stride into the circle and set up the materials he wasn’t asking questions about while he occupied himself with Harry. He considered spelled soothers to be rather dubious ethically – he was of the opinion that if your child had something to cry about then you ought to fix it rather than spell them – but it was dangerous to have a crying baby in the Forbidden Forest when they were standing outside the safety of the stone circle, and Elphinstone didn’t know quite how far Godric’s protections extended.

And it had to be Godric. There was something about the circle’s magic that felt a little reckless and bold in a way that could only belong to a Gryffindor. Although, perhaps it was less Gryffindor’s own magic that made it so and more that the magic had sat unused and untouched for any real kind of ritual for who knows how long.

Or perhaps it was Gryffindor’s magic responding to the presence of its last heir. The soother stayed in Harry’s mouth, but a rather determined gust of wind managed to weasel its way in between the folds of Harry’s swaddling and unwind it from around his arms. The boy waived his chubby hands in the air and tried to grasp at the leaves. Harry managed to snatch once, which crunched into powder in his palm. The poor boy looked stunned at the collapse, and he busied himself with trying to push the shattered leaf bits off his skin. (It didn't work, but the boy was occupied enough that Elphinstone let it be and watched him with a smile.)

Despite never before having set up a circle for magical adoption, Minerva was thorough. While she already had a basic understanding of the theory – as almost all witches of a certain age eventually found themselves to be – she had concerned herself last night not with panicking over Elphinstone’s state, but with the practical application of adoption rituals. She chalked the necessary runes into waiting spaces atop the rock; burned, poured, smoked, and smeared the specific substances over their corresponding runes – and in certain cases onto the blank space between two.

While the actions themselves were not all that difficult, it was rather difficult to beat back the urge to check over her shoulder. She was not worried about the Aurors hunting for them under dubious causes because it didn’t matter that a large chunk of them were Gryffindors, or that Hogwarts might do it’s duty to Albus and tell him that there were intruders in the forest – if Albus was evening listening – the circle wouldn’t let them be found. No, if Minerva were forced to put a word to her apprehension she would say that magic was looking over her shoulder. Which was complete stuff and nonsense, but yet it was nonsense that she couldn’t help but consider true.

She doubted it was Magic itself, but instead the Gryffindor well of family magic that had come down through the Peverells, and then down through the Potters, and now was wondering what she was doing. The last scion of their house, their last Lord so recently orphaned in such a bloody and nightmarish manner who was now holding out his hands to a man with no ties to their family and silently asking him to scrub them clean. There was a Half-blood woman who had stolen their Lord from his only blood relatives in the world and now was preparing a ritual to do something that most of the Wizarding world would consider treasonous in the extreme. It felt as though the family magic was pacing like a lion just out of sight, waiting to see what these strange interlopers thought they had a right to do with their Lord and in their family circle.

There wasn’t enough time to contemplate the magic prowling around the edge of her vision, for soon Minerva had the spell ready and waived Elphinstone in to join her.

At Minerva’s prompting, Elphinstone slid off Harry’s swaddled blanket and dropped both that and the soother into the pile before he stepped over the boundary. If the magic felt vibrant before, it was nothing compared to the torrent when Harry entered the circle proper. Golden sparks actually began dancing in the air around his head, demanding his giggling attention. The light was timed perfectly since Minerva needed a pinprick of blood to begin the ritual, easily taking it from the back of Harry’s left arm while he used it to press himself up on Elphinstone’s shoulder and grab at the lights with his right.

Minerva sliced her palm and let the blood well up into a puddle before she pressed her hand down on one end of the altar. The first sign that Elphinstone should have noticed that the ritual was going to go its own way was when Minerva flinched in pain when her hand made contact with the stone. When she lifted it, there was a perfect imprint of her hand in blood, fingertip to heel, every whirl and whorl of a print marked in unnaturally bright red on the stone.

Elphinstone handed Harry off to Minerva after she climbed atop the altar. Pressing his own bleeding hand to the stone was like a thousand little knife pricks all driven in simultaneously so his hand left its own perfect imprint. Elphinstone was certain that if he scrubbed, the blood wouldn’t move and that only thing that would undo the imprint was the spell’s completion. The logical part of Elphinstone recognized they were engaging in something they likely ought not, but Minerva was bound and he wasn’t going to let her go forward alone.

The spell begun, he climbed up beside. Harry was on Minerva’s lap and Elphinstone all but wrapped around them. Minerva spread the blood-tipped needle from Harry across the rune at the center of the altar before them and the ground erupted.

Minerva threw herself around Harry. Elphinstone dragged them down into his lap and bent over them. The wind whipped around their huddle and if they could’ve looked up they would’ve seen themselves at the center of a cyclone, the altar its heart and the standing stones as the periphery. Minerva and Elphinstone felt it tearing at the edges of their robes, knocking them off center and smashing them even closer together.

It died off as quickly as it began. Elphinstone kept a hand on the back of Minerva’s head to keep her down while he peeked up and found himself nose to nose with an incorporeal lion.

Elphinstone’s jerked cursing was all Minerva needed to know something was wrong. As with most things, she handled the sudden appearance of magical animal manifestations of family magic better than he did, but not nearly so well as Harry. The boy reached out his hands to pet the massive cat and the damn thing leaned in and rubbed its cheek against the boy. Elphinstone clung tighter to his little family, and Minerva swallowed back the terror that was instinctual even in a Gryffindor and began to speak.

She uttered the incantation that began every adoption ritual, and the Lion twisted its massive head to look at her, leaving Harry to bury his face in its mane. “We come before you to ask permission to adopt your scion in blood and magic, but to do so without unbinding him from you and all that came after.” The Lion flicked its tail in silent interest. “We consider it a cruelty that would simply be finishing the work of a madman to adopt him in the old way. It would end your line, breaking the Houses of Gryffindor, Peverell, and Potter. We loved his parents too well and feel the shame of their loss too strongly to willingly do such to their memory. But we cannot adopt him in any other way. If we do anything less than blood and magic there are villains who will take him from us. There are people who will exploit him for being your last child, who might return him to the abusive home we rescued him from. We ask you to do what no other adoption might do and grant us the safety that comes from a true adoption of blood and magic, but also keep him bound to you as well.”

Elphinstone was rather glad that he hadn’t had the chance to ask Minerva what she was planning because he would’ve tried to talk her out of it. This was absolutely insane. To take a child completely into your magical house meant severing them from the magical house they came from before, cutting them off from one well of magic so they might have access to another. It was a fundamental tenant of magical law and Minerva was trying to get around it by politely asking Harry’s family magic if it wouldn’t mind subverting a law of magical physics.

He was grateful he hadn’t known enough to object, because then he never would’ve had the chance to have the personification of Gryffindor’s family magic lean in and breathe across the three of them. On its breath the Lion of Gryffindor carried a moor under heavy rain clouds that were about to burst, a horse’s flesh sweaty from a gallop, and the bite of steel fresh from its sheath. It was wild and bold, a grand adventure about to happen, and it was the blessing of the oldest part of Harry’s family magic to charge forward and affront the laws of physics.

The Lion stayed before them, so commanding a presence that Elphinstone didn’t realize they weren’t alone until the Raven plunged its beak into the meat between Elphinstone’s thumb and fingers. He kept himself from swearing in front of the child, but the Raven took its bloody beak to the center rune and tapped down as many drops as it could spare. Minerva held out her hand for a similar wound from the Raven that must be the Peverell family’s magic, and got a gentle wing against her palm from her trouble. The Peverell’s magic was painful and melancholy, but there was peace lurking there as well. Elphinstone didn’t want to compare it to a deathbed at the end of a long life but cradled Minerva and Harry a little closer.

The Raven cocked its head and stared at Minerva’s hand that was pressed to Harry’s belly, and Elphinstone’s hand over them both. Then with its bloody beak it ripped out one of its own feathers and dropped it on the center rune. The feather melted away into the shallow puddle of blood and with a caw the Raven hopped off the altar and onto the Lion’s head.

The two creatures just stared at the Humans and there was a moment there where Elphinstone believed that might be it. Perhaps this might be that rare time where experimental magic went well the first time. An extra bit of blood magic seemed like a small price to pay for Harry being theirs but keeping his family.

Of course, that’s the moment Elphinstone realized the animals were staring between him and Minerva. The witch and wizard turned together to look over their shoulders and found a Stag standing behind them at the far edge of the circle. With each step forward the Stag remained the same size, but its antlers grew. It loomed down on them from beside altar with antlers wrapped in a circle around them like winter branches caging them in.

The Potter family magic made Elphinstone want to run naked through the forest, to climb a tree so he could be closer to the moon when he howled. It made his very bones itch under his skin.

They were so focused on Harry reaching out to pet the stag on a nose the width of his little head that neither Elphinstone nor Minerva noticed the antlers closing in around them until they were right over their shoulders. They each tried to lean closer and give the creature a bit of space, but it was mere moments later that the antlers set across their backs like whips. Elphinstone could feel his skin breaking. He could hear Minerva’s gasp of pain. In the course of a moment he could feel the blood drip down his flesh, then close, scar over, and fade to nothing.

It wasn’t until the pain faded to an ache that Elphinstone realized he was nauseous and shaking, the pain not in his skin or in his bones… but in his blood.

He had never experienced such a thing and only read of it the manuals they subjected Auror recruits to, but it was the kind of nightmare other pureblood children told one another on the stormy nights at school. He stumbled off the altar and dropped to his knees outside the circle so as not to defile it with the vomit he couldn’t keep down. Already he could feel what the Stage had done in his very magic. Deep in the heart of him Elphinstone knew he was no longer an Urquart.

Minerva and Harry were at his side in an instant, dragging him back into the circle and pressing his back against the stone. Harry climbed into his lap and Minerva let the boy go, like that might soothe Elphinstone’s stomach.

“What did it do to you?”

“It didn’t feel like a whipping to you?”

“It felt like the knife when I cut my hand for the ritual. It hurt… but not... not what I think it did to you.”

Elphinstone gave a pained laugh. “A knife would be more accurate. That’s what it was doing. Cutting me loose.”

“Loose from what?” Minerva pressed her hand to his cheek. Elphinstone raised his shaking fingers and ran them over her curls that had come loose in the windstorm. “Darling, are you bleeding? You’re so pale.”

“And your hair is black now. I supposed we ought to be grateful they’re only small changes.”

“Phin, what are you talking about?”

“Couldn’t you feel it? The Potter magic?”

“It was wild.”

“It was _feral_.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“That’s the best word for it.”

“Phin, what does it matter?”

The changes really were small. Not the shape of her eyes or her lips, she was too grown and settled into all of her features for those kinds of things. He couldn’t tell if her hair was breaking loose from its bun because of the magic or the wind, but the curls beside her face did seem more likely to twist on their own than because they’d been wrapped in a bun. The magic had changed her hardly at all but it was enough to verify what he already knew.

“Can’t you feel it, Nerve?”

“This isn’t the time to be glib, Elphinstone!”

“Your spell worked perfectly, Minerva. Harry stayed in the Potter family magic pool, but the Potter magic didn’t forge a tie between us. It’s feral, and it’s terrified that it’s going to pass from the world.”

Harry stood on Elphinstone’s thighs and rubbed clumsy hands across his cheeks. The boy pulled his soother out of nowhere and handed it to Elphinstone with a babble to help Elphinstone deal with the tears he didn’t know he was crying.

“Darling, what are you talking about?”

Minerva ran a hand through Harry’s hair to soothe the melancholy boy, and someday Elphinstone was going to cut a lock from each of them and never for the rest of his life would be able to the tell the difference between the hair of mother and child. “We didn’t adopt him, Nerve. He adopted us.”


	9. Chapter 9

It wasn’t until Minerva suggested that they return to Urquart Manor and confront the Aurors with their brand new magical adoption and Elphinstone said they couldn’t that she understood the depth of what the Potter magic had done. It had been a fully-fledged magical adoption, but in the impossible reverse. In their desperation to save Harry from losing his family lineage, Minerva and Elphinstone had sacrificed their own. Elphinstone couldn’t take them through the wards at Urquart Manor because they weren’t _his_ wards anymore. Instead, he and Minerva had been grafted on to the Potter family tree. Her accounts would now bear the name Potter, Hogwarts would change its charter and list her as Deputy Headmistress Minerva Potter, even her Order of Merlin would change itself to list her as a Potter, and any children she bore would be heirs to House Potter.

For Minerva it wasn’t so terrible a thing. Her mother had been all but disowned from the Ross family when she chose to put aside magic to marry a Muggle, and even if she hadn’t, there were plenty of cousins to carry on the name. Even the McGonagall family had her two brothers with their several children so her family magic was no more worried than if she had gotten married.

But the Urquart family, it was gone now. They’d never been prolific, and Elphinstone had been the last son of a last son. House Potter had ritually ended the line in exactly what they were trying to spare Harry. Elphinstone had been severed from his family magic, magic that had adored him to bits and pieces and now was left without its Lord.

Elphinstone was trying rather valiantly not to cry in front of Harry as the dear boy just kept trying to press his soother into Phin’s mouth. In that stalwartly English way of his, Phin recommended that their first step probably ought to be sending a message to Minerva’s brothers so that they’d be reassured that Minerva’s sudden departure from the family magic didn’t mean she was dead. Minerva was of the opinion that her brothers knew her better than to ever suspect that _death_ was be the most likely option for her, and their first step ought to be wherever it was that people went when they were verifying an adoption. Which is how they found themselves standing barefoot and windswept on the front steps of Gringotts.

They were met by a pacing Furkrus, and Minerva was surprised since she suspected that pacing was rather the sort of thing that Goblins had drummed out of them at a young age. At the sight of Elphinstone, disheveled though he might have been, the Goblin heaved a sigh of relief. He steeled himself against those dramatically human displays of emotion and ushered them into a room where Chief Adlor, the Potter account manager, and a dozen other Goblins were waiting.

“I am pleased to see you still alive.” Adlor said. “Furkrus felt the Urquart family magic be cut off from the living and we suspected the worst.”

“If he could feel it end, I’m surprised Griphook couldn’t feel two new members being added to that family magic.” Minerva pointed out in a tone so dry it blistered.

“Yes,” Adlor looked as though it was a suspicion he’d been having all along and only now had the evidence to prove one way or another. He snapped his fingers and while Griphook wasn’t swept from the room, he was flanked by two massive Goblins that even Minerva believed she’d have a difficult time defeating. At the same time, a rather smug looking younger Goblin stepped forward with a massive tome that someone of his size really shouldn’t be able to carry. “This is Eggok, an apprentice here at the bank. He has been asking questions about the disposition of the Potters’ will. Or rather, the lack of it.”

“And has he managed to find any answers?”

“Only theory and suspicion. Such as: it seems strange that Griphook didn’t tell the Wizengamot to kiss his ass when they told us not to implement the will.”

“What would he stand to gain?”

Griphook stuck his pointy nose into the air and refused to answer, which Adlor had no compunctions about himself. “I imagine he went along with it because there are many priceless Goblin treasures in the various family vaults that Heir Potter might have access to when he is grown. If the boy dies and takes his line with him then it would be Griphook’s responsibility to see how they are redistributed to our people.”

“It seems like that would benefit you all.”

“A bargain, is a bargain, is a bargain, and a Goblin never goes back on their word. Now that I’ve entrusted these facts to you, would you be willing to return the favor and inform us what spell you designed to form such an adoption as the one before me?”

“It is complete then?” Elphinstone interrupted. “We’ve just had my own… sense of the matter to go on.”

Chief Adlor nodded at Eggok, who set the massive book on the table and eased it open to pages that Minerva suspected would always be directly in the middle. With a tap of Adlor’s staff, the outside edge of the table wheeled around until the book came to a stop in front of them. There on the far right-hand side of the page was Harry James Potter, who was placed as he should be beside a simple line that connected him to James Fleamont Potter and Lily Iris Evans. However, while that line ought to have been straight to the left connecting him to his parents, it was angled up. The rest of the page’s contents had shifted ever so slightly to center James beside his parents and so on until if you looked just at the far-left page you’d have no clue that something was amiss later on down the line.

Because you see, while the line to James and Lily angled up, there was a line to Minerva and Elphinstone that angled down. They were written without parents of their own, but they had been grafted into the Potter family tree as though they’d been born there and were as much Harry’s parents as the biological ones who’d died to save his life.

Elphinstone’s hand shook as he traced the nothingness to the left of their names, all the space where their families ought to have been. He clutched Harry to him all the tighter. Though Elphinstone had more to lose than Minerva, he still didn’t regret it and that’s what made Minerva decide that really, this nonsense had to be fixed.

“Now that you can see that your spell was successful, would you like to share what you did to make it so?”

“Happily, if you’d be willing to do something for us first.”

Chief Adlor stiffened. “I’ve done something for you already.”

“It is my understanding that you did what your honor required of you after one of your Goblins nearly allowed a child to be abused and likely murdered in service to his own greed. The thing I ask would be for my husband, since you want to find out what I did to make him my husband.”

She could see the Goblin debating with himself whether or not it would be easier to just kill them where they sat and be done with the matter. Though in the end, he nodded his head that he would hear her request, because for all it irritated him, Minerva wasn’t wrong. “And what would you have in exchange?”

“I would like you to declare that House Urquart is now a member of House Potter by right of conquest. As such, all properties, heirlooms, rights, responsibilities, and magics are now in the custody of House Potter.”

“You really want me to believe that this counts as conquest?” Adlor snorted.

“Why wouldn’t it? Our joining to House Potter was violent, it was bloody, and it was so extreme that your own magic was convinced Elphinstone had died in the process. If that doesn’t constitute conquest, what does?”

“I concur.” One of the Goblins declared and another seconded. Minerva couldn’t distinguish the wave of muttering that went across the room, but apparently it was positive enough that Adlor agreed.

“Why would you want our verification of the conquest rather than your own Wizengamot’s? They’ll raise objections without their own.”

“Yes, but they’ll take six months to verify what you can get done right now, and who knows how much family magic might dissipate in the meantime.”

“You didn’t anticipate being excised from your family magic.”

“It wasn’t the point of the spell, no. It was an adoption variation designed to make Harry ours by blood and magic without removing _him_ from his family magic.”

“And how did you intend to pull that off?” Minerva just raised an eyebrow. That bit of information was obviously what they were bargaining for and she wasn’t going to give it away just because they were being friendly now. Chief Adlor huffed, but declared, “By right of conquest, the Urquart family has been conquered by the Potter family. All rights, responsibilities, properties, heirlooms, life, livestock, and magics now fall under the ownership of House Potter.”

If Elphinstone had not been sitting, his knees wouldn’t have held him. The rush of his family magic finding him again was overwhelming. He gripped the edge of the table and had to breathe deep and slow to keep himself from toppling right off the chair. This time Minerva was a part of it, connected to the well of family magic and the joy that the magic had to find Elphinstone still alive brought tears to her eyes. Little Harry broke out in bright giggles.

Adlor cleared his throat, and though the interruption made Minerva not at all in the mood to share, the Goblins had been helpful over the last few days. “Well you see, Chief Adlor,” Minerva explained as she guided Elphinstone back to his feet. “It was rather simple: we asked.”

Minerva liked to think that if left to their own devices they wouldn’t have gone straight to the Wizengamot wind rumpled and barefoot, but it was a very real possibility. She would never know for certain since their conversation with Chief Adlor was cut short before he could get testy or she could lose her temper. Instead, a young Goblin – who looked just as petrified as her students did when they came in for career counseling – arrived and managed to stutter out that there were a dozen House Elves in the lobby demanding to see their Sir. “I moved them all into waiting room two but—” and Elphinstone was off in a flash.

“Thank you for your help and hospitality!” He called over his shoulder on his way out the door. Though she probably ought to have metaphorically dug in her heels to offer a more polite goodbye, Minerva let him tug her along.

Gingham was the only Elf to put himself anywhere near the waiting room door, likely ordering the rest of the household to take cover on the far side of the meeting room to protect them all against whatever came through that door after their magic had felt Elphinstone die. She didn’t know enough about House Elf magic or their bonds with their masters to know whether or not they could tell that Elphinstone was the one who had claimed their family magic or if they had felt all their bonds be tugged upon by some unknown Potter.

When Gingham popped himself across the room and landed in Elphinstone’s spare arm, she thought it might be the latter. The Elf tossed his arms around Elphinstone’s neck and dragged him into a hug, pressing pointy-noised kisses to his cheek. All her years of study and Minerva had no clue that House Elves had their own language. It was a mess of squeaks and hums, gnarled hands shaking as Gingham couldn’t seem to decide between hugs and patting every inch of Elphinstone he could reach to make sure he wasn’t a hallucination.

Trusting in Gingham’s certainty, the rest of the Elves popped across the room and swarmed Elphinstone, some attaching themselves to his legs, others climbing over him like a jungle gym. They brought Elphinstone to his knees and he collapsed under a pile of House Elves. Though she could hear Elphinstone and no small amount of Elves fighting back tears, she could also hear Harry laughing at the pointy-nosed kisses being pressed into his ticklish flesh. (When Minerva laughed at them both, the Elves had no problem dividing their attention between all three Humans, yanking on her skirts rather than piling on top of her to drag her down as they had done to Elphinstone. Harry had his own circle of snuggling, kissing She-Elves.)

They ended up in what Minerva was unwilling to call a cuddle pile on the floor, left to their own devices for far longer than she’d ever expected the Goblins to allow them to take up valuable space in their bank. Elphinstone gave the Elves the brief version of what had happened, enough to soothe them that it had been beyond his wildest dreams that he might be cut off from his family magic. If he’d had even the slightest notion he would’ve found the way to warn them beforehand, even with the small amount of time they had before their escape.

Which reminder caused Elphinstone to demand to know what had happened to them? The Elves had escaped into the wilds just outside the boundaries of the manor’s wards, and thankfully they didn’t have to stay there very long. Elphinstone checked over each Elf individually, making sure that they didn’t have injuries they weren’t reporting just to spare him the stress.

Soon enough everyone had been caught up on their own mornings, though Minerva could tell that Gingham was only letting Elphinstone get away with such a lackluster explanation because there was no being certain about privacy from the Goblins when you were in the bank. When they got home and had all the Aurors thrown out there would be a whole litany of questions. If anyone understood the true depth of what might have been done to the Urquart family magic, it would be Gingham. The pain that Elphinstone felt from being cutting off from the Urquart family magic was probably only comparable to what Gingham had felt when the family that he had served for the last 250 years had suddenly come to an end, and then brought back to him. There would be a lot of hugging and fussing for them over the next few days, and Minerva was looking forward to the chance to let him. (A day off from this anarchy was precisely what the doctor prescribed.)

However, there would be no going home while there were Aurors at the house, probably likely still lurking. Someplace in the paperwork of the Ministry of Magic there had to be a piece of paper that said that the House of Potter had just gained two new members and that the blood and magic adoption of Harry Potter had been completed, and that House of Urquart had been claimed by House Potter. (Or perhaps, two pieces of paper in two vastly different departments that had never once talked to each other in all their long history.) The Ministry couldn’t be trusted to find those papers themselves, piece together the logic of what was done, and send a letter of apology for jumping the gun. And perhaps then the Ministry would retract the Statue of Secrecy, Muggles would be thrilled to find Wizards, and the entire world would live forever on ice cream and cotton candy. Both were just as likely possibilities.

Gingham was the one to finally start nudging them out of the circle and ushering his fellow Elves back into hiding. “You be as quick about this nonsense with the Wizengamot as you were with the adoption, yes, Miss Nervie?”

“It will be the most efficient meeting the Wizengamot has ever held, you have my word.”

And so Gingham snapped shoes back on their feet, their hair back in order – though Harry’s only stayed that way for a moment before it gave in to genetics that Minerva was grateful had yet to exert themselves on her and Elphinstone. (Though, his hair was looking even curlier then it had when he’d rolled out of bed this morning.)

No small amount of the Elves looked as though they really would rather prefer not letting Elphinstone out of their sight. And if they must, then at least they’d like to have Harry left in their care so that that if worse came to worst then they wouldn’t lose the entire family all over again. Despite their preference otherwise, there would be no verifying that Harry had truly been adopted without Harry there and letting the Wizengamot to feel his magic in front of them. Even then they would likely have to deal with a room full of cranky old men telling them that they couldn’t have adopted Harry and/or been adopted by the Potter family because that was simply not the way things were done.

Already Minerva was starting to irritate herself just with the thoughts of what nonsense they might have to spew at her, and they didn’t have time for that today. Minerva let that thought percolate in her head for a moment as they apparated out of the bank and were immediately escorted down to the lower levels of the Ministry where the Wizengamot met. She wasn’t concerned with the flashing cameras – they were easily handled by a flick of her wand transfiguring the cameras into chew toys that squeaked every time a photographer went to click the shutter. Later she’d string someone up by their thumbs for leaking enough information that there would be press here leading to such a potential violation of Harry’s privacy, but right now it was dawning on her that she didn’t actually _have_ to play nice with the Wizengamot. Harry was theirs, they were Harry’s, and it didn’t matter how much it pissed off the old men who thought a Half-blood woman shouldn’t be able to claim the heir to a great and noble house – as though they had the right to an opinion after their apathy was what put Harry in this position in the first place. This wasn’t down to a vote. They were just politely informing the Wizengamot something that they had no say in and couldn’t undo no matter how much they might rage.

It probably said more than it ought to about how well Elphinstone knew her that he didn’t break his stride while he squeezed her hand and shifted his feet so that when they entered the Wizengamot, Minerva was the one who led them along. Minerva was the one who stuck out her chin and managed to look a foot taller than she actually was. Minerva was the one to stride into the center of the room, leaving Elphinstone standing beside the waist-high gate that was the entrance to the circle of space that accused and witnesses were meant to occupy, looking up at stadium seating, three-quarters taken up by Wizengamot seats that were all occupied, and one-quarter full of spectators who were packed in so tight Minerva was reminded of sardines.

Minerva was the one to stand in the middle of the room and stare up at them with all the fury that was only known to the righteous. She had been a teacher for enough years that she knew full well how long it took people to summon up the courage to speak when she had that expression on her face, and as such she waited two seconds short of when she knew the temporary Chief Warlock was going to summon up his courage. (Albus wouldn’t have hesitated at all, and his temporary displacement considering his involvement in the current case before them was something Minerva was going to exploit to its fullest measure.)

“Well gentlemen? You were so anxious to summon me here that you violated the sanctity of a noble house not once, but twice. And now none of you have anything to say? Does this mean I can go home without being concerned that more Aurors are going to interrupt my sleep?”

“According to my understanding of the situation, it wasn’t your _sleep_ they were interrupting the first time.”

“Considering you don’t sit on any of the councils that Aurors report to, would _you_ like to explain how you came by such information that should be treated with the utmost discretion pursuant to the rules of an active investigation?”

“I—I would never—”

“Shut up, Harker.” Bartemius Crouch interrupted. Since he was the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, everyone listened. Minerva remembered being a Junior Auror who’d longed to be the Head of the DMLE just so she could cause a similar reaction.

“No! Just because your Aurors have been caught—”

“At the moment they’re not my Aurors. Right now they’re the damn Lord and Lady Potter and you’ll treat them with the respect that magic has given them this very morning.”

“So it’s true then?” Another member of the Wizengamot shouted out.

“But they wouldn’t be Lord and Lady Potter if they adopted the Potter Heir!” Another objected.

“If I may,” Albus interrupted.

“I don’t know why you would.” Crouch objected. “I’m the one the Goblins sent a notice to asking if we were aware that we had a warrant out for the arrest of Lord and Lady Potter for the kidnapping of their own child.”

“But that shouldn’t be possible!” Harker objected again.

“Well apparently it is!”

“Perhaps there would be less shouting if Lady Potter would tell us _how_.” Albus couldn’t help himself.

A circle of “hear, hears!” made its way around the room.

They finally turned their attention back to her. Though Minerva was quite uncomfortable with being called Lady Potter – and not entirely sure the choice of words was correct given the circumstances – she raised herself up to be worthy of the title. “My Lords and Members of the Wizengamot it’s quite simple. We asked.”

They sat in silence for a moment, expecting her to offer up a more thorough explanation than that. When she didn’t, there were all manner of disgruntled shouts, but no one was going to yell what they wanted to at a Lady Potter.

Albus took the burden upon himself to ask if she might be willing to share more, and Minerva explained that there really wasn’t more to share. “Elphinstone and I went to the Potter family’s ritual circle,” and she refused to pause for the grumble of outrage from all those men who knew the Potter family circle that they couldn’t demand she tell them more about, “and we performed the traditional adoption ritual, but this time we asked that the Potter magic not excise Harry just because adoption was the only means we could find to protect Harry. And the Potter magic agreed. Quite thoroughly.”

“But that’s not an explanation.” Harker whined.

“It is the only one you’ll be getting.”

“But—”

“Do shut up,” Crouch interrupted. “The Potter family magic has a longstanding tradition of doing the impossible. We don’t get to object during one of the rare times that their magic decides to be concerned with their own family interests rather than with the public good.” Every person in the room was thinking that it was that legacy of impossibility that had killed Voldemort almost a week ago, and to complain about it now would be tempting fate.

However, there were no small amount of men in that room whose own families were known for tempting fate just as the Potters were known for doing the impossible, and they weren’t going to stop now just because everyone else considered it stupidity. The room broke into shouted arguments, most of the men wanting to treat the adoption just like they would any other, secretly relieved that the matter of the abuse of Harry James Potter had been so neatly and unequivocally handled. A vocal minority wanted to subject Minerva and Elphinstone to tests, verifying that they really had adopted the boy and that they hadn’t done some dark magic to make themselves Potters.

(Considering that you couldn’t force your way into a family tree through dark magic, and that adoption magic concerned itself with the purity of a person’s intent and the willingness of the family magics involved to allow someone to be adopting or to do the adopting, that was all nonsense. But it seemed nonsense was given more voice than even usual in the Wizengamot because parents weren’t supposed to be adopted in to a child’s house.)

Minerva rejoined Elphinstone and Harry, both man and child watching the proceedings with raised eyebrows. (And yes, Elphinstone’s curls were starting to break free of whatever sticking charms Gingham had used to keep them down.)

Before Minerva could grumble about the proceedings, Elphinstone asked, “Do you remember that time when you were particular irritated with Lord Malfoy?”

“You’ll have to narrow it down. I don’t think I’ve ever been _not_ irritated with the man since I knew he existed.”

“I mean when he dilly dallied so long our suspect had the chance to move all the evidence against him and it took another two weeks and who knows how many illegal potions ingredients still distributed before we caught him. And you told Malfoy he was an idiot, and he gave you a lecture about how since you were a woman, you couldn’t understand the intricacies of the Wizengamot.”

“Are you trying to incite me to violence?”

“No, I want you to remember the extensive research you did afterwards, and all the ranting you did at me about the various reasons the Wizengamot was stagnant because of our cultural constructs, not because it actually had to be.”

Minerva stared at him for a long moment, sorting through the untold number of lectures that she’d given him over the years to find the one in particular he was referring to. When she remembered, it was like watching the sunrise break across her face. “Just when I am under the impression that could no possibly love you any more than I already do, you prove me wrong.”

Elphinstone grinned. “You got there eventually.”

“Lady Potter, if we’re not interrupting?” Crouch asked.

He just enough of a _tone_ to his question that Minerva decided she wasn’t going to make things easy, even on this man who was her love’s boss. (Or rather, likely his former boss.) “It’s Regent Potter-McGonagall, and yes, you are. You’ve been interrupting us for days when you should have been interrupting the Muggles who were abusing my son. When you should have been executing the Potters’ will so that we might do even the smallest part of something to pay them back for the sacrifice they made to save us all. When you should have been doing your duty to discover whether or not Sirius Black was guilty or if the man who betrayed the Potters to death was still at large and an innocent man was in prison because for a moment he allowed his grief and shock to control him. There are numerous things you ought to have been doing when instead you chose to concern yourselves with hunting the people who were trying to fix it. And now that it’s fixed, you want to complain about the people who solved the problem. I refuse to stand here and let you foist the blame off on us for stepping up.

“Now, do you recognize that we have adopted Harry, and in turn the Potter family has adopted us?”

Crouch roughly cleared his throat, but confirmed on behalf of the Wizengamot that they confirmed the adoption.

“Wonderful. Then the only issues you have to discuss with us are matters of your own curiosity and are not legal matters that require our presence?”

Crouch obviously hated it with every fiber of his being, but he said yes.

“That wasn’t so hard was it? Now that that’s settled, Phin, Harry, I’ll see you boys at home. A home where I’m sure our House Elves have been able to reappear and the Aurors have vacated the premises?”

Crouch nodded yes, honestly a little scared to open his mouth.

Minerva dropped a kiss on Harry’s head and another on Elphinstone’s lips before waiving them both towards the door to go home and take a nap.

“Pardon me, Regent Potter-McGonagall.” And Albus had the gumption to sound proud. “But will you be remaining to scold us some more?”

“I consider it one of my roles in life to scold you, Albus. But in this case, I’ll be remaining to take my seat on the Wizengamot.”

It was not unlike a bomb had been set off. Despite not currently being the Chief Warlock, Albus managed to get them all back under control in a relatively short amount of time. “I beg your pardon?”

“The Wizengamot seat for House Potter now falls to Elphinstone and I to bear until Harry comes of age or chooses to accept the burden himself. Phin and I have decided that it should be my responsibility.”

“But you can’t!” Crouch shouted.

“Why not?” Minerva asked, daring him to say it was because she was a woman, which he had no compunction about whining about in front of an entire room of people and on the record. Minerva let him complain a sufficiently incriminatory amount of time before she interrupted. “Actually, you’ll find that while House Potter has traditionally passed their seat to the firstborn son, that is simply because they tend to have sons born first, not because they have any archaic language about the seat passing to their sons by necessity.”

“What?” Crouch squeaked.

“It means the magic of House Potter has no problems with Minerva taking the Wizengamot seat, and if the family magic doesn’t, we’re not allowed to either.” Albus said.

Whatever objections they all might have had were drowned out by the rumble of wood expanding, pressing the middle row apart and reforming the Potter seat in the Wizengamot, the Potter, Peverell, Gryffindor, and Urquart seals all appearing etched into the wood. With the Wizengamot accepting her claim, there was nothing any of them could say to object. Minerva raised her eyebrow, daring them utter a word as she climbed the stairs and took her seat. There was still some grumbling from the others, but there were also no small amount of people who had their mental wheels turning trying to figure out how they might get their hands on a copy of the rules of Potter inheritance. (And so small amount of wives and daughters who had come today with the particular concern for an abducted child and now were asking themselves what they might discover if they examined their own family’s rules. Minerva was quite looking forward to seeing who would end up joining her in the Wizengamot seats in the upcoming weeks.)

“Now, as much I would like to delve into an inquiry about who has been issuing orders to the Aurors to violate privacy so horrendously over the last few days, I do believe the problems Heir Black is facing are far more pressing. Or have you had the common sense to handle that situation before distracting yourself with us?”

“You aren’t the Chief Warlock,” Crouch snapped. “You don’t tell us what to focus on.”

“She does not, but I second the motion,” Lord Black interrupted. “Many us of did not believe that Minerva McGonagall would be so base to stoop to something like kidnapping and we argued that our course of action should be to bring Sirius before us and verify her claims that he was not the Death Eater who betrayed the Potters.”

“And you were outvoted!” Crouch objected.

“And the proof now sits among us that you were wrong! You rejected the notion that there was _any_ Black who might not have served the Dark Lord as more ridiculous than Elphinstone Urquart standing up in front of us and swearing that he thought Sirius was innocent, so you ignored it! You decided to override all the objections of the Aurors you dragged in here for their opinions and despite them risking their professions by disagreeing with you in public, you still ordered them out after one of their own. They objected so much that I’m stunned that they went at all, but not at all surprised that two asleep people and a child managed to slip through their fingers! Though you seem perfectly content to ignore the damn professionals, perhaps you’ll listen to magic herself when she agrees to not only let these two become Harry’s parents, but to adopt them into the House of Potter! What objections could we possibly have when the family magic itself has approved them! So let us go forward and actually deal with the issue at hand rather than the one that’s been settled by magic herself!”

His shouts echoed through the deafening silence that followed, everyone stunned at hearing Arcturus Black of all people raising his voice, losing his temper so loudly and profoundly where other people could so clearly witness the unflappable man’s loss of calm.

However the room was expecting him to recover, no one could have anticipated that Albus Dumbledore would’ve raised his voice in support. “Hear, hear, Lord Black. I most heartily agree. I repeat to the Wizengamot that it seems far more likely to me that Sirius Black misspoke in his grief and was set up to take the fall then that he truly betrayed Lord Potter. And I concur that now we have proof that Regents Potter-McGonagall and Potter-Urquart were not falsifying information to simply run off with Heir Potter. I concur that the matter of Heir Potter is settled and it is time we ask ourselves not only about the imprisonment of Sirius Black, but about how many other innocent people might have been thrown into Azkaban on suspicion and never granted a trial.”

“While I agree that it is time we investigate these issues,” Crouch replied through gritted teeth, “you’re far too forgiving a person to be the man in charge of such an investigation, Dumbledore.” Crouch spat out the word ‘forgiving’ as though it was a curse.

“Gentlemen!” Minerva interrupted. “Lets handle the task at hand first before we move on to an overhaul of the prison system.”

“Overhaul!” Crouch objected. “Who said anything about an overhaul?”

Minerva rolled her eyes but pressed the Wizengamot forward. If the man didn’t recognize that she was going to drag them out of the Middle Ages kicking and screaming so they might have a better future than simply repeating the same nonsense of dark lords and blood purity over and over again. She’s been blessed with a husband, a son, and the power to shape the future in a way no Half-blood ever got. Minerva’s son was going to have his own damn future without these people and their weak spines holding them all back.

Bartemius Crouch snapped back at Lord Black, other members getting in on the argument. Minerva waited for her moment to pounce and glanced towards the door, finding Elphinstone leaning against the frame with Harry in his arms. Both man and child perked up at Minerva’s attention and waived their goodbyes, having waited to leave until she saw their smiles and such vigorous waiving that Harry nearly pitched himself out of Elphinstone’s arms. She waived back at them, uncaring that some of her fellows were looking at her in disapproval for such enthusiasm.

Little Harry though, he jabbered something at her and she nodded along with a smile, pretending that she could hear. Her response was obviously insufficient, because the boy furrowed his brow and said it again. Minerva glanced to Elphinstone for a more dramatically-mouthed version. Harry wasn’t having any of that nonsense, and the little fellow shouted at the top of his lungs, “Bye la’er, Mimi!”

The Wizengamot giggle at him and he buried his face in Elphinstone’s collar. But when Minerva called out, “Love you, Harry,” the boy twisted around and tried to look at her through the scruff of his fringe without anyone else seeing his face. Elphinstone bit his lip to keep from being one of the people who betrayed the boy by laughing, but when he turned to take them out the door, Harry grumbled out an objection. It was unclear to everyone else, but Elphinstone turned back and called out a, “Bye later, Minerva,” of his own. Minerva did not blush, not even when Harry squawked at her and smacked Elphinstone in the chest like it was his fault for turning around without waiting. The boy turned back to Minerva and managed to raise an eyebrow making his displeasure known.

Minerva held out until the boy pointed his tiny hand at her and flailed back towards Elphinstone before she called out, “Love you too, Phin.”

“And I you, Nerve.” Harry smacked Elphinstone in the chest and he nodded. “Yes, yes, love you too, baby boy.” Harry waived goodbye one more time and babbled to a closely listening Elphinstone on their way out the door.

Minerva watched them go and it took her a long moment to realize that the room was silently watching her. She turned back to them with an eyebrow that would’ve done Harry proud. “Well gentlemen, shall we get back to work?”


End file.
